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THE 



WAVERLEY GALLERY 



OF THE 



f ritiripl ^iWik €\zxutm 



m 



SIR WALTER SCOTTS ROMANCES. 



FROM ORIGINAL PAINTINGS ^Y EMINENT ARTISTS— ENGRAVED UNDER 

THE SUPERINTENDENCE OF CHARLES HEATH. 

'I 



NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

448 & 445 BROADWAY. 

1866. 



M3 



Herbert Pell 
March 18, 1943 



THE WOMEN OF WAVERLEY. 

The Women of tlie Waverley Novels form a family of 
beauties interesting to ns for almost every reason that can 
render women interesting. Tlie " story of their lives from 
year to year" lias been read tlie wide world over, and 
there are but few readers of the English language who can- 
not remember, looking not far back in thought, perhaps, an 
even especial tenderness for one or more of them. They are 
beings with whom we have hoped and feared with a reality 
so intense, that they have become part of the experience of 
our lives. Taken simply as the studies of a great literary 
master, they appeal to all our gentler feelings with a warmth 
unequalled by any other imaginary sisterhood; they are 
second in any thing only to the heroines of Shakspeare, and 
to them only in the exquisite ideality with which those 
dainty beings are pictured. 

To please our natural love of pictures with a ghmpse at 
the possible faces of these women — to show the ideas that 
artists skilled in all the niceties of plastic expression form 



Q THE WOMEX OF WAYERLEY. 

from tlie great master's descriptions — ^is tlie object of this 
gallery. This has always been regarded as one of the sun- 
shiny walks of art. Except in the case of that sublime 
countenance of Homer, which, though originally only the 
imagination of a Greek artist, has now become the accepted 
type of the poet, we know of no instance in which the se- 
verer labor of the pencil has been tm^ned in this direction ; 
but, on the contrary, it has been rather the paiQter's recrea- 
tion. And as such a lighter labor of art, associated from its 
very beginning with hap|)y thoughts, and the pleasanter mo- 
ments of life, this Gallery is deemed a most appropriate 
Hohday Offering. 



CONTENTS. 



FLORA MAC-IVOR, . . . 

MISS BRADWARDINE, . 

JULIA MANNERING, . . . 

MISS WARDOUR, 

DIAIsrA VERlSrOK, .... 

HELElSr MAC-GREGOR, 

ISABELLA YERE, .... 

JENNY DENNISON, . 

EDITH BELLENDEN, , 

JEANIE DEANS, 

EFFIE DEANS, .... 

MADGE WILDFIRE, . 

LUCY ASHTON, .... 

LADY ROWENA, 

REBECCA, 

THE WHITE LADY OF AYENEL, 
CATHERINE SEYTON, . 
JANET FOSTER, . . . . 
AMY ROBSART, . . ., . 
MINNA TROIL, .... 



PAGE 

Wayeeley, ... 9 
Waverlet, . . . 19 
Gut Mannering, . .25 

AinCIQUARY, . . 29 

Rob Roy, . . .45 
Rob Roy, ... 51 
Black Dwarf, . .59 
Old Mortality, . 67 

Old Mortality, . . 15 
Heart oe Mid Lothian, 81 
Heart of Mid Lothian^, 87 
Heart of Mid LoTHiAi^f, 93 
Bride of Lammermoor, 99 
ivais^hoe, . . .105 

IVANHOE, . . .111 

Monastery, . . 117 

Abbot, . . . .129 

Kenilworth, . 137 

Kenilwoeth, . . .139 

Pirate, . . .143 



CONTENTS. 



MARGARET RAMSAY, . 
ALICE BRIDaENORTH, . 
JACQUELINE, . . . . 
CLARA MOWBRAY, . 
THE UNKNOWN, . 
GREENMANTLE, 
RACHAEL GEDDES, 
ROSE FLAMMOCK, « 
EVELINE BERENGER, . 
QUEEN BERENGARIA, . 
ALICE LEE, .... 
GLEE MAIDEN, . 
CATHERINE, . . . . 
ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN, . 
LADY AUGUSTA BERKELY, 
ZILIA DE MONgADA, 



Fortunes of Nigel, 


PAGE 

147 


Peveeil or THE Peak, 


155 


QUENTIN DUEWAUD, 


. 159 


St. Ronan's Wet.t,, . 


163 


Redgauntlet, 


. 1G5 


Redgauntlet, 


167 


Redgauntlet, 


171 


Beteothet), 


173 


Beteothed, 


c 177 


Talisman, . 


183 


Woodstock, . 


. 189 


Faie Maid of Peeth, 


197 


Faie Maid of Peeth, 


211 


Anne of Geieestein, 


. 217 


Castle Dangeeous, . 


223 


SuEGEON'S DaUGHTEE, 


. 227 



THE 



WATERLET GALLERY. 



FLORA MAC-IVOR. 

When Waverley had been a guest at TuUy-Veolan nearly 
six weeks, he descried, one morning, as he took his usual walk 
before the breakfast-hour, signs of uncommon perturbation in 
the family. Pour bare-legged dairy-maids, with each an empty 
milk-pail in her hand, ran about with frantic gestures, and 
uttering loud exclamations of surprise, grief, and resentment. 
From their appearance, a pagan might have conceived them a 
detachment of the celebrated Belides, just come from their bak- 
ing penance. As nothing was to be got from this distracted 
chorus, excepting " Lord guide us ! " and " Eh, sirs ! " ejacula- 
tions which threw no light upon the cause of their dismay, 
Waverley repaired to the fore-court, as it was called, where he 
beheld Bailie Macwheeble cantering his white pony down the 
avenue with all the speed it could muster. He had arrived, it 
would seem, upon a hasty summons, and was followed by half a 
score of peasants from the village, who had no great difficulty 

in keeping pace with him. 

2 



10 



7EZ WATTP.LEY GALLEP.T. 



WaYcdey took his way to tie : z -^ parlor, where he found 
Rose, who seemed vexed and thoughtfoL A single word ex- 
plained the mysteory. " Your break&ist will be a disturbed one. 
Captain Wavedey. A party of Caterans hare come down upon 
US last night, and have driven off all our nulch cows." 

'' A party of Caterans ? " 

• Yi? : rr^bers firom the neighboring Highlands. We used 
:: :e Cj^uiic Hcc from them while we paid black-mail to Tergus 
Mac-Ivor Yich Ian Tohr ; but my Mher thought it unworthy 
of his rank and birth to pay it any longer, and so this disaster 
has happened." 

And such were the circumstances under which the young 
captain first heard the name of Mac-Ivor. Coupling it as they 
did with robbery and violence, tiiey were not calculated to 
prepossess the mind in fevor of any one bearing it ; yet he be- 
came interested in hearing of the strange life and character of 
the Highland Chief — conversed with the Baron of Highland 
robbers seneiallv — ^and listened with somethinsr of wonder to 
R(Ke when she said of the chieftain's sister : " Flora is one of 
the most beautiful and accomplished young ladies in this coun- 
try : she was bred in a convent in France, and was a great 
friend of mine before this unhappy dispute. An opportunity 
to go into the Highlands presented itself, and Waveriey went. 
The most notable result of the excursion was his meeting with 
the lady of whom Rose spoke so warmly, to whom he was pre- 
sented by her brother upon retiring from a formal banquet at 
the chiefs table. 

The drawing-room of Flora Mac-Ivor was furnished in the 
plainest and most simple manner ; for at Glennaquoich eveiy 
other sort of expenditure was retrenched as much as possible, 
for the purpose of maintaining, in its full dignity, the hospitality 



FLORA MAO-IVOR. 1| 

of the chieftain, and retaining and multiplying the number of 
his dependants and adherents. But there was no appearance of 
this parsimony in the dress of the lady herself, which was in 
texture elegant, and even rich, and arranged in a manner which 
partook partly of the Parisian fashion, and partly of the more 
simple dress of the Highlands, blended together with great 
taste. Her hair was not disfigured by the art of the friseur, 
but fell in jetty ringlets on her neck, confined only by a cuclet, 
richly set with diamonds. This peculiarity she adopted in com- 
pliance with the Highland prejudices, which could not endure 
that a woman's head should be covered before wedlock. 

Plora Mac-Ivor bore a most striking resemblance to her 
brother Pergus ; so much so, that they might have played Viola 
and Sebastian with the same exquisite effect produced by the 
appearance of Mrs. Henry Siddons and her brother, Mr. Wil- 
liam MmTay, in these characters. They had the same antique 
and regular correctness of profile ; the same dark eyes, eye- 
lashes, and eye-brows ; the same clearness of complexion, ex- 
cepting that Fergus's was embrowned by exercise, and Flora's 
possessed the utmost feminine delicacy. But the haughty, and 
somewhat stern regularity of Fergus's features, was beautifully 
softened in those of Flora. Their voices were also similar in 
tone, though differing in the key. That of Fergus, especially 
while issuing orders to his followers during their military exer- 
cise, reminded Edward of a favorite passage in the description 
of Emetrius : 

whose voice was heard around, 



Loud as a trumpet with a silver sound. 

That of Flora, on the contrary, was soft and sweet, " an ex- 
cellent thing in woman ;" yet, in urging any favorite topic, 



]^2 THE WAVERLEY GALLERY. 

which she often pursued with natural eloquence, it possessed as 
well the tones which impress awe and conviction, as those of 
persuasive insinuation. The eager glance of the keen black eye, 
which, in the chieftain, seemed impatient even of the material 
obstacles it encountered, had, in his sister, acquired a gentle 
pensiveness. His looks seemed to seek glory, poAver, all that 
could exalt him above others in the race of humanity ; while 
those of his sister, as if she were akeady conscious of mental 
superiority, seemed to pity, rather than envy, those who were 
strugghng for any farther distinction. Her sentiments corre- 
sponded with the expression of her countenance. Early educa- 
tion had impressed upon her mind, as well as on that of the 
chieftain, the most devoted attachment to the exiled family of 
Stuart. She believed it the duty of her brother, of his clan, 
of every man in Britain, at whatever personal hazard, to con- 
tribute to that restoration which the partisans of the Chevalier 
St. George had not ceased to hope for. Tor this she was pre- 
pared to do all, to sufiPer all, to sacrifice aU. But her loyalty, 
as it exceeded her brother's in fanaticism, excelled it also in 
purity. Accustomed to petty intrigue, and necessarily involved 
in a thousand paltry and selfish discussions, ambitious also by 
nature, his political faith was tinctured, at least, if not tainted, 
by the views of interest and advancement so easily combined 
with it ; and at the moment he should unsheathe his claymore, 
it might be difficult to say whether it would be most with the 
view of making James Stuart a king, or Fergus Mac-Ivor an 
earl. This, indeed, was a mixture of feeling w^hich he did not 
avow even to himself, but it existed, nevertheless, in a powerful 
degree. 

In Flora's bosom, on the contrary, the zeal of loyalty burnt 
pure and unmixed with any selfish feeling ; she would have as 



FLOE A MAC-IVOK. 13 

soon made religion the mask of ambitious and interested views, 
as have shrouded them under the opinions which she had been 
taught to think patriotism. Such instances of devotion were 
not uncommon among the followers of the unhappy race of 
Stuart, of which many memorable proofs will recur to the 
mind of most of my readers. But peculiar attention on the 
part of the Chevalier de St. George and his princess to the 
parents of Fergus and his sister, and to themselves, when or- 
phans, had riveted their faith. Pergus, upon the death of his 
parents, had been for some time a page of honor in the train 
of the chevalier's lady, and, from his beauty and sprightly 
temper, was uniformly treated by her with the utmost distinc- 
tion. This was also extended to Plora, who was maintained for 
some time at a convent of the first order, at the princess's ex- 
pense, and removed from thence into her own family, where 
she spent nearly two years. Both brother and sister retained 
the deepest and most grateful sense of her kindness. 

Having thus touched upon the leading principle of Flora's 
character, I may dismiss the rest more slightly. She was highly 
accomplished, and had acquired those elegant manners to be ex- 
pected from one who, in early youth, had been the companion 
of a princess ^ yet she had not learned to substitute the gloss 
of politeness for the reality of feeling. When settled in the 
lonely regions of Glennaquoich, she found that her resources in 
French, English, and Italian literatm-e, were likely to be few and 
interrupted ; and, in order to fill up the vacant time, she be- 
stowed a part of it upon the music and poetical traditions of 
the Highlanders, and began really to feel the pleasure in the 
pursuit, which her brother, whose perceptions of literary merit 
were more blunt, rather affected for the sake of popularity than 
actually experienced. Her resolution was strengthened in these 



14 THE WAYEELEY GALLERY. 

researches, by tlie extreme deliglit wMcli her inquiries seemed 
to afford those to whom she resorted for information. 

Her love of her clan, an attachment which was almost 
hereditaiy in her bosom, was, like her loyalty, a more pure pas- 
sion than that of her brother. He was too thorough a pohtician, 
regarded his patriarchal influence too much as the means of ac- 
complishing his own aggrandizement, that we should term him 
the model of a Highland Chieftain. Plora felt the same anxiety 
for cherishing and extending their patriarchal sway, but it was 
with the generous desii'e of vindicating fi'om poverty, or at least 
from want and foreign oppression, those whom her brother was 
by bii-th, according to the notions of the time and country, entitled 
to govern. 

To this young lady, presiding at the female empire of the 
tea-table, Pergus introduced Captain Waverley, whom she re- 
ceived with the usual forms of pohteness. 

riora, hke every beautiful woman, was conscious of her own 
power, and pleased with its effects, which she could easily dis- 
cern, from the respectful, yet confused address of the young sol- 
dier. But, as she possessed excellent sense, she gave the romance 
of the cuTumstances under which he appeared, and other acci- 
dental ch'cumstances, full weight in appreciating the feelings 
with which Waverley seemed obviously to be impressed ; and 
imacquainted with the fanciful and susceptible pecuharities of 
his character, considered his homage as the passing tribute which 
a woman of even inferior charms might have expected in such 
a situation. 

But that night, as may readily be conceived by the reader, 
who knows him better, Edward retired with his mind agitated 
by a variety of new and conflicting feelings, which detained 
him from rest for some time, in that not unpleasing state of 



FLORA MAO-IYOE. 2 5 

mind in whicli fancy takes the helm, and the soul rather drifts 
passively along with the rapid and confused tide of reflection, 
than exerts itself to encounter, systematize, or examine them. 
At a late hour he fell asleep, and dreamed of Plora Mac-Ivor. 

It was not in a life like Flora's that love could come, as 
Waverley very soon learned. Filled with the pride of her race 
and the glory of the cause in which her brother was embarked, 
she had nothing to yield to gentler feeling ; and receiving with 
quiet courtesy the young soldier's suit, she freely said — " I could 
esteem you, Mr. Waverley, as much, perhaps more, than any 
man I have ever seen ; but I cannot love you as you ought to 
be loved." 

After the young soldier's departm^e from Glennaquoich, he 
scarcely saw Elora until the day preceding that upon which 
her brother was to be executed for high treason — ^when, having 
reached Carlisle, where the trial had taken place, he immediately 
sent word of his intention to wait upon her that evening. The 
messenger brought back a letter, in Flora's beautiful Italian hand, 
which seemed scarce to tremble, even under its load of misery. 
" Miss Flora Mac-Ivor," the letter bore, " could not refuse to 
see the dearest friend of her dear brother, even in her present 
circumstances^ of unparalleled distress." 

When Edward reached Miss Mac-Ivor's present place of 
abode, he was instantly admitted. In a large and gloomy tapes- 
tried apartment. Flora was seated by a latticed window, sewing 
what seemed to be a garment of white flannel. At a little dis- 
tance sat an elderly woman, apparently a foreigner, and of a re- 
Hgious order. She was reading in a book of Catholic devotion, 
but when Waverley entered, laid it on the table, and left the 
room. Flora rose to receive him, and stretched out her hand, 
but neither ventured to attempt speech. Her fine complexion 



■0''. 



IQ THE TrAYEBIXT GALLERY. 

was totally gone ; her person eonsiderablT emaciated ; and liei 
£ace and hands as white as the pnr^ statuaiy marble, forming 
a strong contrast with her sable dress and jet-black hair. Yet, 
amid these marks of distress, there was nothing neglected or 
ill-aiTanged about her attire ; even her hair, though totally with- 
out ornament, was disposed with her usual attention to neatness. 
Tbr 1:: -" ""ords she uttered were, " Have you seen him ? " 

_^:.i, no.'^ answered TTaverley, "I have been refased ad- 
mittance. ' 

" It accords with the r^/' she said ; " but we must submit. 
Shall you obtain leave, do you suppose ? " 

" For — for — to-morrow/* said Waverlev ; but mutterins: the 
last word so feintly that it was almost unintelligible. 

• Ay, then or never," said Hora^ " until " — she added, look- 
ing upward, " the time when, I trost, we shall all meet. But I 
hope you will see him vrHle e?.rth yet bears him. He always loved 
you at his heart, the rl — m: it is vain to talk of the past.^' 

" Yain, indeed '. ' c : : ed Waverlev. 

'*' Or, even of the fature, my good Mend," said Plora, '^ so 
fer as earthly events are concerned ; for how often have I pic- 
tttred to myself the strong possibihty of this horrid issue, and 
tasked myself to consider how I could support my part ; and yet 
how far has all my anticipations fallen short of the unimaginable 
bitterness of this hour ! " 

" Dear Plora, if your strength of mind ' 

" Ay, there it is," she answered, somewlji: wildly ; " there 
is, Mr. TVaverley, there is a busy devil at my heart, that whis- 
pers — ^but it were madness to listen to it — that the strength of 
mind on which Plora prided herseK has murdered her brother ! " 

" Good God ! how can you give utterance to a thought so 
shockinsT ? " 



FLORA MAO-IVOR. 17 

" Ay, is it not so ? but yet it haunts me like a phantom ; I 
know it is unsubstantial and vain ; but it will be present ; will 
intrude its horrors on my mind ; will whisper that my brother, 
as volatile as ardent, would have divided his energies amid a 
hundred objects. It was I who taught him to concentrate them, 
and to gage all on this dreadful and desperate cast. Oh, that I 
could recollect that I had but once said to him, ' He that striketh 
with the sword shall die by the sword;' that I had but once 
said, Remain at home ; reserve yourself, your vassals, your life, 
for enterprises within the reach of man. But oh, Mr. Waverley, 
I spurred his fiery temper, and half of his ruin at least lies with 
his sister ! " 

The horrid idea which she had intimated, Edward endeavored 
to combat by every incoherent argument that occurred to him. 
He recalled to her the principles on which both thought it their 
duty to act, and in which they had been educated. 

" Do not think I have forgotten them," she said, looking up, 
with eager quickness ; " I do not regret his attempt, because it 
was wrong ! oh no 1 on that point I am armed ; but because it 
was impossible it could end otherwise than thus." 

" Yet it did not always seem so desperate and hazardous as 
it was ; and if would have been chosen by the bold spirit of 
Fergus, whether you had approved it or no ; your counsels only 
served to give unity and consistence to his conduct ; to dignify, 
but not to precipitate, his resolution.'' Flora had soon ceased 
to listen to Edward, and was again intent upon her nee die- work. 

" Do you remember," she said, looking up with a ghastly smile, 
*' you once found me making Fergus's bride-favors, and now I am 
sewing his bridal-garment. Our friends here," she continued, 
with suppressed emotion, '' are to give hallowed earth in their 
chapel to the bloody relics of the last Vicli Ian Vohr. But they 



18 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

will not all rest together ; no — ^his head ! — I shall not have the 
last miserable consolation of kissing the cold lips of my dear, 
dear Fergus ! " 

The mifortunate Flora here, after one or two hysterical sobs, 
fainted in her chair. The lady, who had been attending in the 
anteroom, now entered hastily, and begged Edward to leave the 
room, but not the house. 

When he was recalled, after the space of nearly half an hour, 
he found that, by a strong effort. Miss Mac-Ivor had greatly 
composed herself. It was then he ventured to urge Miss Brad- 
wardine's claim, to be considered as an adopted sister, and em- 
powered to assist her plans for the future. 

" I have had a letter from my dear Rose," she rephed, " to 
the same pm-pose. Sorrow is selfish and engrossing, or I would 
have written to express, that even in my own despair, I felt a 
gleam of pleasure at learning her happy prospects, and at hear- 
ing that the good old baron has escaped the general wreck. 
Give this to my dearest Rose ; it is her poor Flora's only orna- 
ment of value, and was the gift of a prmcess." She put into 
his hands a case, containing the chain of diamonds vriih. which she 
used to decorate her hair. " To me it is in future useless. The 
kindness of my friends has secured me a retreat in the convent 
of the Scottish Benedictine nuns in Paris. To-morrow — ^if in- 
deed I can survive to-morrow — I set forward on my journey 
with this venerable sister. And now, i\Ir. Waverley, adieu ! 
May you be as happy with Rose as your amiable dispositions 
deserve : and think sometimes on the friends you have lost. Do 
not attempt to see me again ; it would be mistaken kindness." 




J. Ccolc . 



'/UZ/^ 



ROSE BRADWARDIIS^E. 

Miss Bradwardine was but seventeen ; yet, at the last 

races of the county town of , upon her health being 

proposed among a round of beauties, the Laird of Bumper- 
quaigh, permanent toast-master and croupier of the Bauther- 
whillery Club, not only said More to the pledge in a pint 
bumper of Bourdeaux, but, ere pouring forth the libation, de- 
nominated the divinity to whom it was dedicated, " the Bose of 
Tully-Yeolan ; " upon which festive occasion, three cheers were 
given by all the sitting members of that respectable society, 
whose throats the wine had left capable of such exertion. Nay, 
I am well assured, that the sleeping partners of the company 
snorted applause, and that although strong bumpers and we-ak 
brains had consigned two or three to the floor, yet even these, 
fallen as they were from their high estate, uttered divers inar- 
ticulate sounds, intimating their assent to the motion. 

Such unanimous applause could not be extorted but by ac- 
knowledged merit ; and Rose Bradwardine not only deserved it, 
but also the approbation of much more rational persons than 
the Bautherwhillery Club could have mustered, even before dis- 
cussion of the first magnimi. She was indeed a very pretty girl, 



20 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

jf the Scotch cast of beauty, that is, mth a profusion of hair 
of paley gold, and a skin hke the snow of her own mountains 
in whiteness. Yet she had not a pallid or pensive cast of coun- 
tenance ; her features, as well as her temper, had a lively ex- 
pression ; her complexion, though not florid, was so pure as to 
seem transparent, and the slightest emotion sent her whole blood 
at once to her face and neck. Her form, though under the com- 
mon size, was remarkably elegant, and her motions light, easy, 
and unembarrassed. Her father had taught her Prench and 
Italian, and a few of the ordinary authors in those languages 
ornamented her shelves. He had endeavored also to be her 
preceptor in music ; but as he began with the more abstruse 
doctrines of the science, and was not perhaps master of them 
himself, she had made no proficiency farther than to be able to 
accompany her voice with the harpsichord ; but even this was not 
very common in Scotland at that period. To make amends, 
she sung with great taste and feeling, and with a respect to the 
sense of what she uttered, that might be proposed in example 
to ladies of much superior musical talent. Her natural good 
sense taught her, that if, as we are assured by high authority, 
music be " married to immortal verse," they are very often di- 
vorced by the performer in a most shameful manner. It was 
perhaps owing to this sensibility to poetry, and power of com- 
bining its expression with those of the musical notes, that her 
singing gave more pleasure to all the unlearned in music, and 
even to many of the learned, than could have been communi- 
cated by a much finer voice and more brilliant execution, un- 
guided by the same delicacy of feeling. 

A bartizan, or projecting gallery, before the windows of her 
parlor, served to illustrate another of Rose's pursuits ; for it was 
crowded with flowers of different kinds, which she had taken 



ROSE BEADWARDINE. 21 

under her special protection. A projecting turret gave access to 
this Gothic balcony, which commanded a most beautiful pros- 
pect. The view of an old tower, or fortalice, introduced some 
family anecdotes and tales of Scottish chivaby, which the Baron 
told with great enthusiasm. The projecting peak of an im- 
pending crag which rose near it, had acquired the name of St. 
Swithin's Chair, and Rose was called upon to sing a little le- 
gend, in which some superstitions relating to it had been inter- 
woven by a village poet. 

I conjecture the following copy of this legend to have been 
somewhat corrected by Waverley, to suit the taste of those who 
might not relish pure antiquity : 

ST. SWITHIN'S CHAIR. 

On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere ye boune ye to rest, 
Ever beware tbat your couch be bless'd; 
Sign it with cross, and sain it with bead, 
Sing the Ave, and say the Creed. 

For on Hallow-Mass Eve the Night-Hag will ride, 
And all her nine-fold sweeping on by her side, 
Whether the wind sing lowly or loud. 
Sailing through moonshine or swath' d in the cloud. 

The Lady she sat in St. Swithin's (Jhair, 
The dew of the night had damp'd her hair : 
Her cheek was pale — but resolved and high 
Was the word of her lip and the glance of her eye. 

She mutter'd the spell of Swithin bold, 
When his naked foot traced the midnight wold. 
When he stopp'd the Hag as she rode the night 
And bade her descend, and her promise plight. 



22 THE WAVEELEY GALLEKY. 

He ttat dare sit on St. Swithin's Chair, 
When the Mght-Hag wings the troubled air, 
Questions three, when he speaks the spell, 
He may ask, and she must tell. 

The Baron has been with King Eobert his liege, 
These three long years in battle and siege ; 
News are there none of his weal or his wo. 
And fain the lady his fate would know. 

She shudders and stops as the charm she speaks : — 
Is it the moody owl that shrieks ? 
Or is it that sound, betwixt laughter and scream. 
The voice of the Demon who haunts the stream ? 

The moan of the wind sunk silent and low. 
And the roaring torrent has ceased to flow ; 
The calm was more dreadful than raging storm. 
When the cold gray mist brought the ghastly Form ! 



" I am sorry to disappoint tlie company, especially Captain 
Waverley, wlio listens witli sucb. laudable gravity ; it is but a 
fragment, altliougli I think there are other verses, describing the 
return of the baron from the wars, and how the lady was found 
' clay-cold upon the grounsill ledge.' " 

" It is one of those figments," observed Mr. Bradwardine, 
" with which the early history of distinguished families was de- 
formed in the times of superstition : as that of Rome, and other 
ancient nations, had their prodigies, sir, the which you may read 
in ancient histories, or in the little work compiled by Juhus 
Obsequens, and inscribed by the learned Scheffer, the editor, to 
his patron, Benedictus Skytte, Baron of Dudershoff." 

*'My father has a strange defiance of the marvellous, Cap- 



EOSE BEADWAEDINE. 23 

tarn Waverley," observed Rose, " and once stood firm when a 
whole synod of Presbyterian divines were put to the rout by a 
sudden apparition of the foul fiend." 

Waverley looked as if desirous to hear more. 

" Must I teh my story as well as sing my song ? Well — ■ 
Once upon a time there lived an old woman, called Janet Gel- 
latley, who was suspected to be a witch, on the infallible grounds 
that she was very old, very ugly, very poor, and had two sons, 
one of whom was a poet and the other a fool, which visitation, 
all the neighborhood agreed, had come upon her for the sin of 
witchcraft. And she was imprisoned for a week in the steeple 
of the parish church, and sparely supplied with food, and not 
permitted to sleep, until she herself became as much persuaded 
of her being a witch as her accusers ; and in this lucid and 
happy state of mind was brought forth to make a clean breast, 
that is, to make open confession of her sorceries, before all the 
Whig gentry and ministers in the vicinity, who were no conju- 
rors themselves. My father went to see fair play between the 
witch and the clergy ; for the witch had been born on his estate. 
And while the witch was confessing that the Enemy appeared, 
and made his addresses to her as a handsome black man — which, 
if you could Jiave seen poor old blear-eyed Janet, reflected little 
honor on Apollyon's taste — and while the auditors listened 
with astonished ears, and the clerk recorded with a trembling 
hand, she, all of a sudden, changed the low nuunbling tone with 
which she spoke into a shrill yell, and exclaimed, ' Look to your- 
selves ! look to yourselves ! I see the Evil One sitting in the 
midst of ye.' The surprise was general, and terror and flight 
its immediate consequences. Happy were those who were next 
the door ; and many were the disasters that befell hats, bands, 
cuffs, and wigs, before they could get out of the church, where 



•24 THZ TTAYEKLEY GALLERY. 

thev left the obstinate prelatist to settle matters witli the witch 
and her admirer, at his own peril or pleasmre.'^ 
This anecdote led into a lonsr discussion of 

All those idle thoughts and fantasies, 
DcTTces, dreams, opinions, nnsonnd. 
Shows, Tisions, soothsays, and prophecies. 
And all that feigned is, as leasings, tales and lies. 

Yet Rise Biadwardine, beautiM, amiable, and cultivated as 
we have described her, had not pieciselj the sort of beanty or 
merit, which captivates a romantic imagination in earlv youth. 
She was too frank, too confiding, too kind ; amiable quahties, un- 
doubtedly, but destructive of the marvellous, with which a youth 
of imagrQation delights to dress the impress of his affections. 

'•' That man/' Plora Mac-Ivor had said, " will find an iqcs- 
timable treasure ia the affections of Rose Bradwardine, who shall 
be so fortunate as to become their object. Her very soul is iq 
home, and in the discharge of all those quiet virtues of which 
home is the centre. Her husband will be to her what her father 
now is, the object of aU her care, soficitude, and affection. She 
will see nothing, and connect herseff with nothing, but by him 
and through him. K he is a man of sense and virtue, she wiH 
svmpathize in his sorrows, divert his fatigue, and share his pleas- 
ures. If she becomes the property of a churlish or negligent hus- 
band, she win suit his taste also, for she will not long survive his 
unkindness. And, alas I how great is the chance, that some such 
imworthy lot may be that of my poor friend I O that I were a 
queen this moment and could command the most amiable and 
worthy youth of my kingdom to accept happiness with the hand 
of Rose Bradwardine." 




IX'' m 



'S^^ja-SBSGv --^ia^F-' 



JULIA MANNERHG. 

At leiigtli tlie trampling of horses, and tlie sound of wheels, 
were heard. The servants, who had already arrived, drew up 
in the hall to receive their master and mistress, with an import- 
ance and empressementy which, to Lucy, who had never been ac- 
customed to society, or witnessed what is called the manners of 
the great, had something alarming. Mac-Morlan went to the 
door to receive the master and mistress of the family, and in a 
few moments they were in the drawing-room. 

Mannering, who had travelled as usual on horseback, entered 
with his daughter hanging upon his arm. She was of the mid- 
dle size, or rather less, but formed with much elegance : piercing 
dark eyes, and jet-black hair of great length, corresponded with 
the vivacity and intelligence of features, in which were blended 
a little haughtiness, and a little bashfulness, a great deal of shrewd- 
ness, and some power of humorous sarcasm. " I shall not like 
her," was the result of Lucy Bertram's first glance ; " and yet 
I rather think I shall," was the thought excited by the second. 

Miss Mannering was furred and mantled up to the throat 
against the severity of the weather ; the Colonel in his military 
greatcoat. He bowed to Mrs. Mac-Morlan, whom his daughter 



og THE WAYERLET GALLERY. 

also acknowledged with a fashionable courtesy, not dropped so 
low as at aU to incommode her person. The Colonel then led 
his daughter np to Miss Bertram, and, taking the hand of the 
latter, with an air of great kindness, and almost paternal affec- 
tion, he said, " Jnlia, this is the yonng lady whom I hope our 
good fiiends have prevailed on to honor onr house with a long 
visit. I shall be mnch gratified indeed if yon can render Wood- 
boume as pleasant to ^liss Bertram, as Ellangowan was to me 
when I first came as a wanderer into this conntry." 

The yonng lady conrtesied acquiescence, and took her new 
Mend's hand. Manneiing now turned his eye upon the Dominie, 
who had made bows since his entrance into the room, sprawling 
out his lesr, and bending his back hke an automaton, which con- 
tinues to repeat the same movement until the motion is stopped 
by the artist. "My good friend, Mr, Sampson," said Man- 
nering, introduciQg him to his daughter, and darting at the same 
time a reproving glance at the damsel, notwithstanding he had 
himself some disposition to join her too obvious inclination to 
risibflity. " This gentleman, Julia, is to put my books in order 
when they arrive, and I expect to derive great advantage from 
his extensive learning.' 

* I am sure we are obliged to the gentieman, papa, and, to 
borrow a ministerial mode of giving thanks, I shall never forget 
the extraordinary countenance lie has been pleased to show ns. 
But, Miss Bertram," continued she, hastily, for her father's brows 
began to darken, ** we have travelled a good way, — will yon 
permit me to retire before dinner ? '* 

This intimation dispersed all the company, save the Dominie, 
who, havina: no idea of dressino^ but when he was to rise, or of 
undressias^ but when he meant to so to bed, remained bv him- 
self, chewing the cud of a mathematical demonstration, untQ 



JULIA MANNEKING. 21 

the company again assembled in the drawing-room, and from 
thence adjourned to the dining-parlor. 

When the day was concluded, Mannering took an oppor- 
tunity to hold a minute's conversation with his daughter in 
private. 

" How do you like your guests, Julia ? " 

" Oh, Miss Bertram of all things — ^but this is a most original 
parson — why, dear sir, no human being will be able to look at 
him without laughing." 

" While he is under my roof, Julia, every one must learn to 
do so." 

" Lord, papa, the very footmen could not keep their gravity ! " 

" Then let them strip off my livery," said the Colonel, " and 
laugh at their leisure. Mr. Sampson is a man whom I esteem 
for his simplicity and benevolence of character." 

" Oh, I am convinced of his generosity too," said this lively 
lady ; "he cannot lift a spoonful of soup to his mouth without 
bestowing a share on every thing round." 

" Julia, you are incorrigible ; but remember, I expect your 
mirth on this subject to be under such restraint, that it shall 
neither offend this worthy man's feelings, nor those of Miss 
Bertram, who may be more apt to feel upon his account than 
he on his own. And so, good night, my dear ; and recollect, 
that though Mr. Sampson has certainly not sacrificed to the 
graces, there are many things in this world more truly deserv- 
ing of ridicule than either awkwardness of manners or sim- 
plicity of character." 




■','i:jaj-:Y c/iur.BY 



MISS WARDOUR. 

Sir Arthur and his daughter had set out, according to their 
first proposal, to return to Knockwinnock by the turnpike road ; 
but, when they reached the head of the loaning, as it was called, 
or great lane, which on one side made a sort of avenue to the 
house of Monkbarns, they discerned, a little way before them, 
Lovel, who seemed to linger on the way as if to give him an op- 
portunity to join them. Miss Wardour immediately proposed 
to her father that they should take another direction ; and, as 
the weather was fine, walk home by the sands, which, stretching 
below a picturesque ridge of rocks, afforded at almost all times 
a pleasanter .passage between Knockwinnock and Monkbarns 
than the high-road. 

Sir Arthur acquiesced willingly, and they soon attained the 
side of the ocean. The tide was by no means so far out as they 
had computed ; but this gave them no alarm ; there were seldom 
ten days in the year when it approached so near the cliffs as not 
to leave a dry passage. But, nevertheless, at periods of spring- 
tide, or even when the ordinary flood was accelerated by high 
winds, this road was altogether covered by the sea ; and tradi- 
tion had recorded several fatal accidents which had happened on 



3Q THE WAYEELEY GALLERY 

such occasions. Still, sucIl clangers were consideied as remote 
and improbable ; and rather seiTcd, with other legends, to 
amuse the hamlet fireside, than to prevent any one from going 
between Knockwinnock and Monkbams by the sands. 

As Sn Arthm- and Miss Wardom^ paced along, enjoying the 
pleasant footing afforded by the cool, moist, hard sand. Miss 
War dour could not help observing, that the last tide had risen 
considerably above the usual water-mark. Sir Arthur made 
the same obsen*ation, but without its occmTing to either of them 
to be alarmed at the cncumstance. The sun was now resting 
his huge disk upon the edge of the level ocean, and gilded the 
accumulation of towermg clouds through which he had travelled 
the hvelons^ dav, and which now assembled on all sides, Hke 
misfortunes and disasters around a sinking empke and falhng 
monarch. Still, however, his ching splendor gave a sombre 
magnificence to the massive congregation of vapors, forming out 
of their unsubstantial gloom the show of pyramids and towers, 
some touched with gold, some with purple, some with a hue of 
deep and dark red. The distant sea, stretched beneath this 
varied and gorgeous canopy, lay almost portentously still, reflect- 
iu!? back the dazzlinor and level beams of the descendino- lumi- 
nar\-, and the splendid coloruig of the clouds amidst which he 
was settmg. Nearer to the beach, the tide rippled onward 
in waves of sparkling silver, that imperceptibly, yet rapidly, 
gained upon the sand. 

Many wild birds, with the instinct which sends them to 
seek the land before a storm arises, were now winging 
towards their nests with the shrill and dissonant clang which 
announces disquietude and fear. The disk of the sun became 
almost totally obscured ere he had altogether sunk below the 
horizon, and an earlv and lurid shade of darkness blotted the 



MISS WAEDOUR. 31 

serene twilight of a summer evening. The wind began next 
to arise ; but its wild and moaning sound was heard for some 
time, and its effects became visible on the bosom of the sea, be- 
fore the gale was felt on shore. The mass of waters, now dark 
and threatening, began to lift itself in larger ridges, and sink in 
deeper furrows, forming waves that rose high in foam upon the 
breakers, or burst upon the beach with a sound resembling dis- 
tant thunder. 

Appalled by this sudden change of weather. Miss Wardour 
drew close to her father, and held his arm fast. " I wish," at 
length she said, but almost in a whisper, as if ashamed to ex- 
press her increasing apprehensions — " I wish we had kept the 
road we intended, or waited at Monkbarns for the carriage." 

Sir Arthur looked round, but did not see, or would not 
acknowledge, any signs of an immediate storm. They would 
reach Knockwinnock, he said, long before the tempest began. 
But the speed with which he walked, and with which Isabella 
could hardly keep pace, indicated a feeling that some exertion 
was necessary to accomplish his consolatory prediction. 

They were now near the centre of a deep but narrow bay, 
or recess, formed by two projecting capes of high and inacces- 
sible rock, which shot out into the sea like the horns of a cres- 
cent ; and neither durst communicate the apprehension which 
each began to entertain, that, from the unusually rapid advance 
of the tide, they might be deprived of the power of proceeding 
by doubling the promontory which lay before them, or of re- 
treating by the road which brought them thither. 

As they thus pressed forward, longing doubtless to exchange 
the easy curving line, which the sinuosities of the bay compelled 
them to adopt, for a straight er and more expeditious path, though 
less conformable to the line of beauty. Sir Arthur observed a 



32 THE WAVERLEY GALLERY. 

human figure on tlie beacli advancing to meet them. " Thank 
God/' he exclaimed, " we shall get round Halket-head ! that 
person must have passed it ; " thus givuig vent to the feeling 
of hope, though he had suppressed that of apprehension. 

" Thank God, indeed ! " echoed his daughter, half audibly, 
half internally, as expressing the gratitude which she strongly 
felt. 

The figure which advanced to meet them made many signs, 
which the haze of the atmosphere, now disturbed by wind and 
by a drizzhng rain, prevented them from seeing or comprehending 
distinctly. Some time before they met, Sir Arthm^ could recog- 
nize the old blue-2:owned bes^orar, Edie Ochiltree. It is said 

O CO ' 

that even the brute creation lay aside their animosities and an- 
tipathies when pressed by an instant and common danger. The 
beach under Halket-head, rapidly diminishing in extent by the 
encroachments of a spring-tide and a north-west wind, was in 
like manner a neutral field, where even a justice of peace and 
a strolling mendicant might meet upon terms of mutual for- 
bearance. 

" Tm-n back ! turn back ! " exclaimed the vagrant ; " why 
did ye not turn when I waved to you ? " 

" We thought," replied Sir Arthur, in great agitation — '' we 
thought we could get round Halket-head." 

" Halket-head 1 The tide will be running on Halket-head, 
by this time, hke the Fall of Fyers ! It was a' I could do to get 
round it twenty minutes since — it was coming in three feet 
abreast. We ^^iIl maybe get back by BaUy-burgh Ness Point 
yet. The Lord help us, it's our only chance. We can but try." 

" My God, my child ! "— '^ My father, my dear father ! " 
exclaimed the parent and daughter, as, fear lending them strength 
and speed, they turned to retrace their steps, and endeavored to 



MISS WARDOUR. 33 

double the point, the projection of which formed the southern 
extremity of the bay. 

" I heard ye were here, frae the bit callent ye sent to meet 
your carriage," said the beggar, as he trudged stoutly on a step 
or two behind Miss Wardour, " and I couldna bide to think of 
the dainty young leddy's peril, that has aye been kind to ilka 
forlorn heart that cam near her. Sae I lookit at the lift and 
the rin 0' the tide, till I settled it that if I could get down time 
enough to gie you warning, we wad do weel yet. But I doubt, 
I doubt I have been beguiled ! for what mortal ee ever saw 
sic a race as the tide is rinning e'en now ? See, yonder's the Rat- 
ton's Skerry- — ^he aye held his neb abune the water in my day^ — ■ 
but he's aneath it now." 

Sir Arthur cast a look in the direction in which the old man 
pointed. A huge rock, which in general, even in spring-tides, 
displayed a hulk, like the keel of a large vessel, was now quite 
under water, and its place only indicated by the boiling and 
breaking of the eddying waves which encountered its submarine 
resistance. 

The waves had now encroached so much upon the beach, 
that the firm and smooth footing which they had hitherto had 
on the sand must be exchanged for a rougher path close to the 
foot of the precipice, and in some places even raised upon its 
lower ledges. It would have been utterly impossible for Sir 
Arthur Wardour, or his daughter, to have found their way 
along these shelves without the guidance and encouragement of 
the beggar, who had been there before in high tides, though 
never, he acknowledged, ''in sae awsome a night as this." 

Each minute did their enemy gain ground perceptibly upon 
them ! Still, however, loath to relinquish the last hopes of life, 
they bent their eyes on the black rock pointed out by Ochiltree. 
5 



34 THE WAYEELEY GALLEEY. 

It was yet distinctly visible among the breakers, and continued 
to be so, until tbey came to a turn in their precarious path, 
where an intervening projection of rock hid it from their sight. 
Deprived of the view of the beacon on which they had rehed, 
they now experienced the double agony of terror and suspense. 
They struggled forward, however ; but, when they arrived at 
the point from which they ought to have seen the crag, it was 
no longer visible. The signal of safety was lost among a thou- 
sand white breakers, which, dashing upon the point of the prom- 
ontory, rose in prodigious sheets of snowy foam, as high as the 
mast of a first-rate man-of-war, against the dark brow of the 
precipice. 

The countenance of the old man fell. Isabella gave a faint 
shriek, and, " God have mercy upon us ! " which her guide 
solemnly uttered, was piteously echoed by Sir Arthur — '' My 
child ! my child ! — to die such a death ! " 

" My father ! my dear father ! " his daughter exclaimed, 
clinging to him, — '' and you, too, who have lost your own life in 
endeavoring to save om^s ! '' 

" That's not worth the counting," said the old man. " I 
hae lived to be weary o' life ; and here or yonder — at the back 
o' a dike, in a wreath o' snaw, or in the wame o' a wave, what 
signifies how the auld gaberlunzie dies ? " 

" Good man," said Sir Arthur, " can you think of nothing ? — ■ 
of no help ? — I'll make you rich — I'll give you a farm — I'll "■ ■ 

" Our riches wiU be soon equal," said the beggar, looking 
out upon the strife of the waters — '' they are sae abeady ; for 
I hae nae land, and you would give your fair bounds and barony 
for a square yard of rock that would be dry for twal hours." 

While they exchanged these words, they paused upon the 
highest ledge of rock to which they could attain ; for it seemed 



MISS WAEDOUE. 35 

that any further attempt to move forward could only serve to 
anticipate tlieir fate. Here, then, they were to await the sure 
though slow progress of the raging element, something in the 
situation of the martyrs of the early church, who, exposed by 
heathen tyrants to be slain by wild beasts, were compelled for a 
time to witness the impatience and rage by which the animals 
were agitated, while awaiting the signal for undoing their grates, 
and letting them loose upon the victims. 

Yet even this fearful pause gave Isabella time to collect the 
powers of a mind naturally strong and courageous, and which 
rallied itseK at this terrible juncture. " Must we yield hfe," 
she said, " without a struggle ? Is there no path, however 
dreadful, by which we could climb the crag, or at least attain 
some height above the tide, where we could remain till morn- 
ing, or till help comes ? They must be aware of our situation, 
and will raise the country to relieve us." 

Sir Arthur, who heard, but scarcely comprehended, his 
daughter's question, turned, nevertheless, instinctively and 
eagerly to the old man, as if their lives were in his gift. Ochil- 
tree paused. " I was a bauld craigsman," he said, '' ance in my 
life, and mony a Idttywake's and lungie's nest hae I harried up 
amang thae very black rocks ; but it's lang, lang syne, and nae 
mortal could speel them without a rope — and if I had ane, my 
ee-sight, and my footstep, and my handgrip, hae a' failed mony 
a day sinsyne — and then how could I save you ? — but there 
was a path here ance, though maybe, if we could see it, ye 
would rather bide where we are. His name be praised ! " lie 
ejaculated suddenly, " there's ane coming down the crag e'en 
now ! " Then, exalting his voice, he hilloa'd out to the daring 
adventurer such instructions as his former practice, and the 
remembrance of local circumstances, suddenly forced upon his 



3Q THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

mind : '' Ye're riglat — ^ye're riglit ! — that gate, that gate ! — fas- 
ten the rope weel round Crummie's-horn, that's the muckle black 
stane — cast twa phes round it — that's it ! — ^now weize yoursell a 
wee easel-ward — a wee mair yet to that ither stane — ^we ca'd it 
the Cat's-lug — there used to be the root o' an aik-tree there 
— that wHl do ! — canny now, lad — canny now — ^tak tent and 
tak time — Lord bless ye, tak time. — Vera weel ! — Now ye maun 
get to Bessy's Apron, that's the muckle braid flat blue stane 
— and then, I think, wi' your help and the tow thegither, I'll 
win at ye, and then we'll be able to get up the young leddy and 
SirArtluu\" 

The adventurer, following the directions of old Edie, flung 
down the end of the rope, which the old man secured around 
Miss Wardour, wrapping her previously in his own blue gown, 
to preserve her as much as possible from injury. Then, avail- 
ing himself of the rope, which was made fast at the other end, 
he began to ascend the face of the crag — a most precarious ^nd 
dizzy undertaking, which, however, after one or two perilous 
escapes, placed him safe on the broad flat stone beside our friend 
Lovel. Their joint strength was able to raise Isabella to the 
place of safety which they had attained. Lovel then descended 
in order to assist Sir Arthur, around whom he adjusted the rope ; 
and again mounting to their place of refuge, with the assistance 
of old Ochiltree, and such aid as Sir Arthur himself could afford, 
he raised him beyond the reach of the billows. 

" The lassie — the puir sweet lassie," said the old man ; 
" mony such a night have I weathered at hame and abroad, but, 
God guide us, how can she ever win through it ! " 

His apprehension Avas communicated in smothered accents 
to Lovel ; for, with the sort of free-masonry by which bold and 
ready spirits correspond in moments of danger, and become 



MISS WAEDOUR. 37 

almost instinctively known to each, other, they had established a 
mutual confidence. — '' I'll climb up the cliff again/' said Lovel, 
" there's day -light enough left to see my footing ; I'll climb up, 
and call for more assistance. 

"Do so, do so, for heaven's sake ! " said Sir Arthur, eagerly. 

"Are ye mad?" said the mendicant; "Francie 0' Pov^ls- 
heugh, and he was the best craigsman that ever speel'd heugh, 
(mair by token, he brake his neck upon the Dunbuy of Slaines,) 
wadna hae ventured upon the Halket-head craigs after sundown. 
• — It's God's grace, and a great wonder besides, that ye are not 
in the middle 0* that roaring sea wi' what ye hae done already. 
— I didna think there was the man left alive would hae come 
down the craigs as ye did. I question an I could hae done it 
mysell, at this hour and in this weather, in the youngest and 
yaldest of my strength. — But to venture up again — ^it's a mere 
and a clear tempting o' Providence." 

" I have no fear," answered Lovel ; " I marked all the stations 
perfectly as I came down, and there is still light enough left to 
see them quite well — ^I am sure I can do it with perfect safety. 
Stay here, my good friend, by Sir Arthur and the young lady." 

" Deil be in my feet then," answered the bedesman sturdily; 
" if ye gang, I'll gang too ; for between the twa 0' us, we'll hae 
mair than wark enough to get to the tap o' the heugh." 

" No, no — stay you here and attend to Miss Wardour — ^you 
see Sir Arthur is quite exhausted/' 

" Stay yoursell then, and I'll gae," said the old man ; " let 
death spare the green corn and take the ripe." 

" Stay both of you, I charge you," said Isabella, faintly, " I 
am well, and can spend the night very well here — I feel quite 
refreshed." So saying, her voice failed her — she sunk down, 
and would have fallen from the crag, had she not been supported 



38 THE WAYZRLEY GALLEEY. 

by Lovel aud Ocliiltree, who placed lier iu a postiu'e half sitting, 
half rechnino:, beside her father, who, exhausted bv fatiscue of 
body and mind so extreme and nnnsual, had akeady sat doini 
on a stone in a sort of stupor. 

'•' It is impossible to leave them,'" said Lovel. '*' Wliat is to 
be done ? — Hai'k ! hai'k ! — Did I not hear a halloo r '*' 

•'■'The skriesh of a Tammie Xorie,"' answered Ochiltree, "i 
ken the skhi ^reel." 

" Xo, by Heaven,'' rephed Lovel, '-'it was a human voice." 

A distant hail was repeated, the sound plainly distinguish- 
able among the various elemental noises, and the clang of the 
sea mews by which they were smTounded. The mendicant and 
Lovel exerted theii' voices in a loud halloo, the former waging 
Miss Wardour's handkerchief on the end of his staff to make 
them conspicuous from above. Though the shouts were repeat- 
ed, it was some time before they were in exact response to their 
own, leasing the unfortunate sufferers uncertain whether, iu the 
darkenins; twih^ht and increasino: storm, thev had made the 
persons who apparently were traversing the verge of the preci- 
pice to bring them assistance, sensible of the place in which they 
had found refuge. At length then' halloo was regularly and 
distmctlv answered, and their com-a^e confirmed, bv the assm-- 
ance that thev were -within hearing:, if not withm reach, of 
friendly assistance. 

The shout of hiunan voices from above was soon augmented, 
and the sleam of torches minded with those hschts of eveninor 
which still remained amidst the darkness of the storm. Some 
attempt was made to hold communication between the assistants 
above, and the sufferers beneath, who were still clin gainer to their 

' CO 

precarious place of safety ; but the howling of the tempest Hmited 
theii' intercom'se to cries, as inarticulate as those of the win2:ed 



MISS WAEDOUR. 39 

denizens of the crag, which shrieked in chorus, alarmed by the 
reiterated sound of human voices, where they had seldom been 
heard. 

"I see them,'' said Oldbuck, "I see them low down on 
that flat stone — Hilh-hilloa, hilli-ho-a ! " 

" I see them mysell weel eneugh," said Mucldebackit ; " they 
are sitting down yonder like hoodlecraws in a mist ; but d ye 
think ye'U help them wi' skirling that gate like an auld skart 
before a flaw o' weather ? Steenie, lad, bring up the mast. — Odd, 
I'se hae them up as we used to boust up the kegs o' gin and 
brandy lang syne. — Get up the pick-axe, make a step for the 
mast — make the chair fast with the rattlin — haul taut and 
belay !" 

The fishers had brought with them the mast of a boat, and 
as half of the country fellows about had now appeared either out 
of zeal or curiosity, it was soon sunk in the ground and suffi- 
ciently secured. A yard, across the upright mast, and a rope 
stretched along it, and reeved through a block at each end, 
formed an extempore crane, which afforded the means of lower- 
ing an arm-chair well secured and fastened down to the flat shelf 
on which the sufferers had roosted. Their joy at hearing the 
preparations going on for their deliverance was considerably 
qualified when they beheld the precarious vehicle, by means of 
which they were to be conveyed to upper air. It swung about 
a yard free of the spot which they occupied, obeying each im- 
pulse of the tempest, the empty air all around it, and depending 
"upon the security of a rope, which, in the increasing darkness, 
had dwindled to an almost imperceptible thread. Besides the 
hazard of committing a human being to the vacant atmosphere 
in such a slight means of conveyance, there was the fearful 
danger of the chair and its occupant being dashed, either by the 



40 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

wind or tlie \ibrations of tlie cord, against tlie rugged face of tlie 
precipice. But to diminish, the risk as mucli as possible, the 
experienced seamen had let down with the chair another line, 
which, being attached to it, and held by the persons beneath, 
might serve by way of gy, as Mucklebacldt expressed it, to 
render its descent in some measure steady and regular. Still, to 
commit one's self in such a vehicle, through a howling tempest 
of wind and rain, with a beetling precipice above, and a raging 
abyss below, required that courage which despair alone can in- 
spire. Yet 'U'ild as the sounds and sights of danger were, 
both above, beneath, and around, and doubtful and dangerous 
as the mode of escaping appeared to be, Lovel and the old men- 
dicant agreed, after a moment's consultation, and after the former, 
by a sudden strong pull, had, at his own imminent risk, ascer- 
tained the security of the rope, that it would be best to secure 
Miss Wardour in the chair, and trust to the tenderness and care 
of those above for her being safely craned up to the top of the 
crag. 

" Let my father go first ! " exclaimed Isabella ; " for God's 
sake, my friends, place him first in safety ! " 

" It cannot be. Miss Wardour," said Lovel ; " your life must 
be first secured — the rope which bears your weight may- — ^" 

" I will not listen to a reason so selfish ! " 

" But ye maun hsten to it, my bonny lassie," said Ochiltree ; 
" for a' our lives depend on it ; besides, when ye get on the tap 
o' the heugli yonder, ye can gie them a round guess o' what's 
ganging on in this Patmos o' ours — and Sh Arthur's far by 
that, as I am thinking." 

Struck with the truth of this reasoning, she exclaimed, " True, 
most true ; I am ready and wiUing to undertake the first risk. 
What shall I say to our friends above ? " 



MISS WAEDOUR. 41 

" Just to look that their tackle does not graze on the face o' 
tiie craig, and to let the chair down, and draw it up hooly 
and fairlj' — ^we will halloo when we are ready." 

With the sedulous attention of a parent to a child, Lovel 
bound Miss Wardour with his handkerchief, neckcloth, and the 
mendicant's leathern belt, to the back and arms of the chair, 
ascertaining accurately the security of each knot, while Ochiltree 
kept Sir Arthur quiet. *' What are ye doing wi' my bairn ?^ — ■ 
What are ye doing ?■ — She shall not be separated from me — 
Isabel, stay with me, I command you." 

" Lordsake, Sir Arthur, hand your tongue, and be thankful 
to God that there's wiser folk than you to manage this job ! " 
cried the beggar, worn out by the unreasonable exclamations of 
the poor baronet. 

" Parewell, my father," murmured Isabella — " farewell, my 
— my friends ;" and, shutting her eyes, as Edie's experience re- 
commended, she gave the signal to Lovel, and he to those who 
were above. She rose, while the chair in which she sat was 
kept steady by the line which Lovel managed beneath. With a 
beating heart he watched the flutter of her white dress, until the 
vehicle was on a level with the brink of the precipice. 

"Canny now, lads, canny now!" exclaimed old Muckle- 
backit, who acted as commodore ; " swerve the yard a bit.^ — ^Now 
— there ! there she sits safe on dry land ! " 

A loud shout announced the successful experiment to her 
fellow- sufferers beneath, who replied with a ready and cheerful 
halloo. Monkbarns, in his ecstasy of joy, stripped his great- 
coat to wrap up the young lady, and would have pulled off his 
coat and waistcoat for the same purpose, had he not been with- 
held by the cautious Caxon. " Hand a care o' us, your honor 
will be killed wi' the hoast — ye'll no get out o' your night-cowl 
6 



42 THE WAYEELEY GILLERY. 

this fortniglit — and tliat will suit us unco ill. — Xa, na — there's 
the chaiiot down by, let two o' the folk cany the young leddy 
there." 

" You're right/' said the Antiquary, readjusting the sleeves 
and collar of his coat, " you're right, Caxon ; this is a naughty 
night to swim in. — Miss War dour, let me convey you to the 
chariot." 

" Not for worlds tUl I see my father safe." 

In a few distinct words, e\incing how much her resolution 
had surmounted even the mortal fear of so agitating a hazard, 
she explained the natm'e of the situation beneath, and the ^dshes 
of Lovel and Ochiltree. 

'' Kight, right, that's light too — I should like to see the son 
of Sir Gamelyn de Guardover on dry land myself — I have a 
notion he would sign the abjuration oath, and the Ragman-rool 
to boot, and acknowledge Queen Mary to be nothhig better 
than she should be, to get alongside my bottle of old port that 
he ran away from, and left scarce begun. But he's safe now, 
and here a' comes — (for the chau* was again lowered, and Su* 
Arthm' made fast in it, without much consciousness on his own 
part,) here a' comes — bowse away, my boys — canny wi' him — a 
pedigree of a hundred hnks is hanging on a tenpenny tow — ^the 
whole barony of Knockwinnock depends on three phes of hemp 
— resjnce fnem, respice fiinem — ^look to your end — ^look to a 
rope's end. — Welcome, welcome, my good old friend, to firm 
land, though I cannot say to warm land or to dry land — a cord 
forever against fifty fathom of water, though not in the sense 
of the base proverb — a fico for the phi'ase — ^better 8us. per f mem, 
than sus. per coll '^ 

While Oldbuck ran on in this way, Sii' Arthur was safely 
wrapped in the close embraces of his daughter, who, assuming that 



MISS WAEDOUE. 43 

authority whicli the circumstances demanded, ordered some of 
the assistants to convey him to the chariot, promising to follow 
in a few minutes. She lingered on the cliiF, holding an old 
countryman's arm, to witness probably the safety of those whose 
dangers she had shared. 

" What have we here ? " said Oldbuck, as the vehicle once 
more ascended. " What patched and weather-beaten matter is 
this ? " Then, as the torches illumined the rough face and gray 
hairs of old Ochiltree, — "What ! is it thou? — come, old Mocker, 
I must needs be friends with thee — -but who the devil makes up 
your party besides ? " 

" Ane that's weel worth ony tAva o' us Monkbarns — ^it's the 
young stranger lad they ca' Level — and he's behaved this blessed 
night as if he had three lives to rely on, and was willing to waste 
them a' rather than endanger ither folk's. — Ca' hooly, sirs, as ye 
wad win an auld man's blessing ! — mind there's naebody below 
now to hand the gy. — Hae a care o' the Ca't's-lug corner — bide 
weel afF Crummie's-horn ! " 

" Have a care indeed," echoed Oldbuck ; " what ! is it my 
rara avis — my black swan^ — my phoenix of companions in a 
post-chaise ? — ^take care of him Mucklebackit." 

"As muckle care as if he were a graybeard o' brandy ; and 
I canna take mair if his hair were like John Harlowe's. — ^Yo, ho, 
my hearts, bowse away with him ! " 

Lovel did, in fact, run a much greater risk than any of his 
precursors. His weight was not sufficient to render his ascent 
steady amid such a storm of wind, and he swung like an agitated 
pendulum at the mortal risk of being dashed against the rocks. 
But he was young, bold, and active, and, with the assistance of 
the begger's stout piked staff, which he retained by advice of 
the proprietor, contrived to bear himself from the face of the 



44 THE TVAYEELEY GALLEEY. 

precipice, and the vet more liazardous projecting cliffs wliicli 
varied its surface. Tossed in empty space, like an idle and nn- 
sulDstantial featlier, with a motion tliat agitated tlie brain at once 
^ntli fear and Tritli dizziness, lie retained liis alertness of exer- 
tion and presence of mind ; and it was not until lie was safely 
grounded upon the summit of the cliff, that he felt temporary 
and giddy sickness. As he recovered from a sort of half swoon, 
he cast his eyes eagerly aromid. The object which they would 
most willino^lv have sought, was akeadv in the act of vanishins:. 
Her white garment was just discernible as she followed on the 
path which her father had taken. She had hngered till she saw 
the last of their company rescued fi'om danger, and until she 
had been assiu^ed by the hoarse voice of Mucklebackit, that 
'•■ the callant had come off wi' unbrizzed banes, and that he was 
but in a kind of dwam." But Lovel was not aware that she had 
expressed in his fate even this degree of interest, which, though 
nothing more than was due to a stranger who had assisted her 
in such an horn- of peril, he would have gladly pm'chased by 
bra^ing^ even more imminent danorer than he had that evenino; 

CD O 

been exposed to. 



^; I 




DIAM VERNON. 

From the summit of an eminence, I had already had a dis- 
tant view of Osbaldistone Hall, a large and antiquated edifice, 
peeping out from a Druidical grove of huge oaks ; and I was 
directing my course towards it, as straightly and as speedily as 
the windings of a very indifferent road would permit, when my 
horse, tired as he Avas, pricked up his ears at the enlivening notes 
of a pack of hounds in full cry, cheered by the occasional bursts 
of a French horn, which in those days was the constant accom- 
paniment to the chase. I made no doubt that the pack was 
my uncle's, and drew up my horse with the purpose of suffer- 
ing the hunters to pass without notice, aware that a hunting- 
field was not the proper scene to introduce myself to a keen sports- 
man, and determined, when they had passed on, to proceed to 
the mansion-house at my own pace, and there to await the re- 
turn of the proprietor from his sport. I paused, therefore, on 
a rising ground, and, not unmoved by the sense of interest which 
that species of sylvan sport is so much calculated to inspire, 
(although my mind was not at the moment very accessible to 



46 THE WAVERLEY GALLERY. 

impressions of this nature,) I expected with, some eagerness the 
appearance of the huntsmen. 

The fox, hard run, and nearly spent, first made his appear- 
ance from the copse which clothed the right hand side of the 
vaKey. His drooping brush, his soiled appearance, and jaded 
trot, proclaimed his fate impending ; and the carrion crow, which 
hovered over him, already considered poor Reynard as soon to 
be his prey. He crossed the stream which divides the little 
valley, and was dragging himself up a ravine on the other side 
of its wild banks, when the headmost hounds, followed by the 
rest of the pack in full cry, burst from the coppice, followed by 
the huntsmen, and three or four riders. The dogs pursued 
the trace of Reynard with unerring instinct ; and the hunters 
followed with reckless haste, regardless of the broken and diffi- 
cult nature of the ground. They were tall, stout young men, 
well mounted, and dressed in green and red, the uniform of 
a sporting association, formed under the auspices of old 
Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone. My cousins ! thought I, as 
they swept past me. The next reflection was, what is my 
reception likely to be among these worthy successors of Nim- 
rod ? and how improbable is it that I, knowing little or noth- 
ing of rural sports, shall find myself at ease, or happy, in my 
uncle's family. A vision that passed me interrupted these 
reflections. 

It was a young lady, the loveliness of whose very striking 
featm'es was enhanced by the animation of the chase and the 
glow of the exercise, mounted on a beautiful horse, jet-black, 
unless where he was flecked by spots of the snow-white foam 
which embossed his bridle. She wore, what was then somewhat 
unusual, a coat, vest, and hat, resembling those of a man, which 
fashion has since called a riding habit. The mode had been in- 



DIANA YERNOK 47 

troduced while I was in Prance, and was perfectly new to me. 
Her long black hair streamed on the breeze, having, in the hurry 
of the chase, escaped from the ribbon which bound it. Some 
very broken ground, through which she guided her horse with the 
most admirable address and presence of mind, retarded her course, 
and brought her closer to me than any of the other riders had 
passed. I had, therefore, a full view of her uncommonly fine 
face and person, to which an inexpressible charm was added by 
the wild gayety of the scene, and the romance of her singular 
dress and unexpected appearance. As she passed me, her horse 
made, in his impetuosity, an irregular movement, just while, 
coming once more upon open ground, she was again putting 
him to his speed. It served as an apology for me to ride close 
up to her, as if to her assistance. There was, however, no cause 
for alarm ; it was not a stumble, nor a false step ; and if it had, 
the fair Amazon had to much self-possession to have been de- 
ranged by it. She thanked my good intentions, however, by 
a smile, and I felt encouraged to put my horse to the 
same pace, and to keep in her immediate neighborhood. The 
clamor of " Whoop, dead, dead ! " and the corresponding flour- 
ish of the Prench horn, soon announced to us that there was 
no more occasion for haste, since the chase was at a close. 
One of the young men whom we had seen, approached us, 
waving the brush of the fox in triumph, as if to upbraid my 
fair companion. 

" I see," she replied, "I see ; but make no noise about it ; 
if Phoebe," said she, patting the neck of the beautiful animal 
on which she rode, " had not got among the cliffs, you would 
have had little cause for boasting." 

They met as she spoke, and I observed them both look at 
me and converse a moment in an under tone, the young lady 



48 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

apparently pressing the sportsman to do sometliing wliicli lie 
declined shyly, and with a sort of sheepish sullenness. She 
instantly turned her horse's head towards me, saving — " T\'ell, 
well, Thornie, if you won't, I must, that's all. — Su'," she 
continued, addi'essing me, " I have been endeavoring to per- 
suade this cultivated young gentleman to make inquiiy of you, 
whether, in the com'se of your travels in these parts, you have 
heard any thing of a fiiend of om's, one IMr. Francis Osbald- 
istone, who has been for some days expected at Osbaldistone 
HaU?" 

I was too happy to acknowledge myself to be the party 
inquired after, and to express my thanks for the obliging in- 
quiries of the young lady. 

'•' In that case, sk," she rejoined, " as my kinsman's pohte- 
ness seems to be still slmnbering, you will peiToit me (though I 
suppose it is highly improper) to stand mistress of ceremonies, 
and to present to you young Squire Thomcliff Osbaldistone, your 
cousin, and Die Yernon, who has also the honor to be your ac- 
comphshed cousin's poor kinswoman." 

There was a mixtiu'e of boldness, satu'e, and simphcity in 
the manner in which Miss Yernon pronoimced these words. My 
knowledge of life was sufficient to enable me to take up a corre- 
sponding tone as I expressed my gratitude to her for her conde- 
scension, and my extreme pleasm-e at having met with them. To 
say the truth, the comphment was so expressed, that the lady 
might easily appropriate the greater share of it, for Thornchff 
seemed an arrant countiy bumpkin, awkward, shy, and some- 
what sulky T^ithal. He shook hands with me, however, and 
then intimated liis intention of leaving me that he might help 
the huntsmen and his brothers to couple the hounds, a pui-pose 



DIANA VERITOK 



49 



which he rather communicate d by way of information to Miss 
Vernon than as apology to me. 

" There he goes," said the young lady, following him with 
eyes in which disdain was admkably painted — " the prince of 
grooms and cock-fighters, and blackguard horse-coursers. But 
there is not one of them to mend another. Have you read 
Markham?" said Miss Vernon. 

" Read whom, ma'am ? — I do not even remember the author's 
name." 

" Oh lud ! on what a strand are you wrecked ! " replied the 
young lady. "A poor forlorn and ignorant stranger, unac- 
quainted with the very Alcoran of the savage tribe whom you 
are come to reside among. Never to have heard of Markham, 
the most celebrated author on farriery ! then I fear you are 
equally a stranger to the more modern names of Gibson 
andBartlett?" 

" I am, indeed. Miss Vernon." 

" And do you not blush to own it ? " said Miss Vernon. 
" Why, we must forswear your alliance. Then, I suppose you 
can neither give a ball, nor a mash, nor a horn ? " 

" I confess I trust all these matters to an hostler or to my 
groom." 

" Incredible carelessness ! — And you cannot shoe a horse, 
or cut his mane and tail ; or worm a dog, or crop his ears, or 
cut his dew claws ; or reclaim a hawk, or give him his casting- 
stones, or direct his diet when he is sealed ; or " 

" To sum up my insignificance in one word," replied I, 
^' I am profoundly ignorant in all these rural accomplish- 
ments." 

" Then, in the name of Heaven, Mr. Prancis Osbaldistone, 



50 THE ^AYEPvLET GALLERY. 

what can you do? Can you do tins?'' she said, putting her 
horse to a canter. 

There was a sort of rude overgrown fence crossed the path 
before us, with a gate, composed of pieces of wood rough from 
the forest, which I was about to move forward to open, when 
Miss Vernon cleared the obstruction at a fljiag leap. I was 
bound, in point of honor to follow and was in a moment again 
at her side. 



HELEN MAC-GREGOR. 

We approached within about twenty yards of the spot where 
the advanced guard had seen some appearance of an enemy. 
It w'as one of those promontories which run into the lake, and 
round the base of which the road had hitherto wound in the 
manner I have described. In the present case, however, the 
path, instead of keeping the water's edge scaled the promon- 
tory by one or two rapid zigzags, carried in a broken track 
along the precipitous face of a slaty gray rock, which would 
otherwise have been absolutely inaccessible. On the top of this 
rock, only to be approached by a road so broken, so narrow, and 
so precarious, the corporal declared he had seen the bonnets and 
long-barrelled guns of several mountaineers, apparently couched 
among the long heath and brushwood which crested the emi- 
nence. Captain Thornton ordered him to move forward with 
three files, to dislodge the supposed ambuscade, while at a more 
slow but steady pace, he advanced to his support with the rest 
of his party. 

The attack which he meditated was prevented by the unex- 
pected apparition of a female upon the summit of the rock. 



" Stand I " she said, with a conunanding tone, " and tdl me 
what Te seek in Mac-Gr^or's countiy ? " 

I have seldom seen a finer or more commanding form than 
this woman. She might be between the term, of fortf and Mtj 
years, and had a eonntenanee wbich mnst once haTe been of a 
mascuhne cast of beanty; though now, imprinted with deep 
hnes by exposnre to rough weather, and pe]ii£^ by the wasting 
influence of grief and passion, its features weiG onfy strong, 
lirsli, and expressive. She wore her plaid, not drawn around 
If- _ f " and shoulders, as is the &shion ci the ^:::irr. i:: "^ : - 
' sposed around hear body as the E __ .: i^ 

we^ tiidrs. She had a mane's bonnet, witi. : It _ i : i 
unsheathed s'^ord in LtT 1: ?z^ "da pair :: ii; .- ;: Ltr 
^rdle. 

" It's Helen Cazi^i-d,, Iv:,b*s wife," said the BaiEe, in a 
whisper of considerable alarm ; " and there will be broken heads 
amang us or it's lang/' 

"What seek ye here ? " she asked again of Captain Thorn- 
ton, who had himself advanced to recmmoitre. 

"We seek the outlaw, Rob Roy Mac-Gii^or Campbell," 
answered the officer, "and make no war on women; theiefoie 
offer no vain opposition to tLe ^ _'s ": :?ps, and assure yourself 
of dvil treatmeot." 

" Ay/' retorted the Amazon, " I am bo sTr^rjger to your 
tMider mercies. Ye have left me neiiiier :: _ 7 : : fem? — ^t^t 
mother's bones will shdnk aside in their scrave who 1 
laid beside them, — Te have left me and mine neither 
hdd, blanket nor bedding, cattle to feed us, or flocks i . r 
us. — ^Ye have taken from us all — all! — The very name of our 
ancestors have ye taken away, and now ye come for our liv^." 

" I seek no man's life," replied the captain ; " I only ex- 



HELEN MAC-GREGOE. 53 

ecute my orders. If you are alone, good woman, you have 
nouglit to fear — ^if there are any with you so rash as to offer 
useless resistance, their own blood be on their own heads. Move 
forward, sergeant." 

The whole advanced with a shout, headed by Captain Thorn- 
ton, the grenadiers preparing to throw their grenades among 
the bushes, where the ambuscade lay, and the musketeers to 
support them by an instant and close assault. 

At length, by dint of scrambling, I found a spot which com- 
manded a view of the field of battle. The battle was then 
ended ; and, as my mind augured, from the place and circum- 
stances attending the contest, it had terminated in the defeat 
of Captain Thornton. I saw a party of Highlanders in the act 
of disarming that officer, and the scanty remainder of his party. 
They consisted of about twelve men, most of whom were 
wounded, who, surrounded by treble their number, and without 
the power to either advance or retreat, exposed to a murderous 
and well-aimed fire, which they had no means of returning with 
effect, had at length laid down their arms by the order of their 
officer, when he saw that the road in his rear was occupied, and 
that protracted resistance would be only wasting the lives of his 
brave followers. By the Highlanders, who fought under cover, 
the victory was cheaply bought, at the expense of one man slain 
and two wounded by the grenades. 

Leaving Andrew to follow at his leisure, or rather at such 
leisure as the surrounding crowd were pleased to indulge him 
with, Dougal hurried us down to the pathway in which the 
skirmish had been fought, and hastened to present us as ad- 
ditional captives to the female leader of his band. 

We were dragged before her accordingly, Dougal fighting, 
struggling, screaming, as if he were the party most apprehen- 



54 THE WATZELEY GALLEET. 

sive of hurt, and repulsing by threats and efforts, all those who 
attempted to take a nearer interest in onr captui-e than he 
seemed to do himseK. At length we were placed before the 
heroine of the day, whose appearance, as well as those of the 
sayage, uncouth, yet martial figures who surrounded us, struck 
me, to own the truth, with considerable apprehension. I do 
not know if Helen Mac-Gregor had personally mingled in the 
firaj, and indeed I was afterwards giyen to understand the con- 
trary ; but the specks of blood on her brow, her hands, and 
naked arms, as well as on the blade oi the sword which she 
continued to hold in her hand — her flushed countenance, and 
the disordered state of the rayen locks which escaped from un- 
der the red bonnet and plume that formed her head-dress, 
seemed all to intimate that she had taken an immediate share 
in the conflict. Her keen black eyes and featin:e3 expressed an 
imagination inflamed by the pride of gratified reyenge, and the 
triumph of yictory. Yet there was nothiag positively sangui- 
nary or cruel in her deportment ; and she reminded me, when 
the immediate alarm of the iateryiew was over, of some of the 
paintings I had seen of the iospired heroines in the Cathohc 
chiu-ches of France. 

The lady was about to speak, when a few wild strains of a 
pibroch were heard advanciag up the road from AberfoiL 

The skirmish being of very short duration, the armed men 
who followed this martial melody, had not, although Cjuickerdng 
their march when they heard the firincr, been able to arrive in 
time sufficient to take any share in the reconnoitre. The victory, 
therefore, was complete without them, and they now arrived 
only to share in the triumph of their countrymen. 

There was a marked difference betwixt the appearance of 
these new comers and that of the party by which our escort had 



HELEN MAC-GREGOR. 55 

been defeated, and it was greatly in favor of the former. The 
thirty or forty Highlanders who now joined the others, were 
all men in the prime of youth or manhood, active, clean-made 
fellows, whose short hose and belted plaids set out their sinewy 
limbs to the best advantage. Their arms were as superior to 
those of the first party as their dress and appearance. 

But it was easy to see that this chosen band had not arrived 
from a victory such as they found their ill-appointed companions 
possessed of. The pibroch sent forth occasionally a few waihng 
notes, expressive of a very dififerent sentiment from triumph ; 
and when they appeared before the wife of their chieftain, it 
was in silence, and with downcast and melancholy looks. They 
paused when they approached her, and the pipes again sent 
forth the same wild and melancholy strain. 

Helen rushed towards them with a countenance in which 
anger was mingled with apprehension. " What means this, 
AUaster ? " she said to the minstrel ; " why a lament in the 
moment of victory? — Robert — Hamish — where's the Mac- 
Gregor ? — where's your father ? " 

Her sons, who led the band, advanced with slow and irreso- 
lute steps towards her, and murmured a few words in Gaelic, 
at hearing which she set up a shriek that made the rocks ring 
again, in which all the women and boys joined, clapping their 
hands and yelling, as if their lives had been expiring in the 
sound. 

" Taken ! " repeated Helen, when the clamor had subsided — 
" Taken ! — captive ! — and you live to say so ? Coward dogs ! 
did I nurse you for this, that you should spare your blood on 
your father's enemies ? or see him prisoner, and come back to 
tell it?" 

At length, when her resentment appeared in some degree 



56 THE WAYEELEY GALLERY. 

to subside, tTie eldest son, speaking in English, probably that 
lie migbt not be understood by tbeir followers, endeavored re- 
spectfully to vindicate liimself and Ms brother from his mother's 
reproaches. I was so near him as to comprehend much of what 
he said ; and, as it was of great consequence to me to be pos- 
sessed of information in this great crisis, I failed not to listen as 
attentively as I could. 

" The Mac-Gregor," his son stated, " had been called out 
upon a trysting with a Lowland hallion, who came with a token 
from " — ^he muttered the name very low, but I thought it 
sounded hke my own. — ■' The Mac-Gregor," he said, " accepted 
of the invitation, but commanded the Saxon who brought the 
message to be detained, as a hostage that good faith should be 
observed to him. Accordingly he went to the place of appoint- 
ment," (which had some wild Highland name that I cannot re- 
member,) " attended only by Angus Breck and little Rory, com- 
manding no one to folio av him. Within half an hour Angus 
Breck came back with the doleful tidings that the Mac-Gregor 
had been surprised and made prisoner by a party of Lennox 
militia, under Galbraith of Garschattachin." 

Under the bmiimg influence of the thirst for vengeance, the 
wife of Mac-Gregor commanded that the hostage exchanged for 
his safety should be brought into her presence. I believe her 
sons had kept this unfortunate wretch out of her sight, for fear 
of the consequences ; but if it was so, their humane precaution 
only postponed his fate. They dragged forward, at her summons^ 
a wretch already half dead with terror, in whose agonized fea- 
tm-es I recognized, to my horror and astonishment, my old ac- 
quaintance Morris. 

He fell prostrate before the female chief with an effort to 
clasp her knees, from which she drew back, as if his touch had 



HELEN MAC-GEEGOE. 57 

been pollution, so that all lie could do in token of tlie extremity 
of his humiliation, was to kiss the hem of her plaid. I never 
heard entreaties for hfe poured forth with such agony of spirit. 
The ecstasy of fear was such, that, instead of paralyzing his 
tongue, as on ordinary occasions, it even rendered him eloquent ; 
and, with cheeks pale as ashes, hands compressed in agony, eyes 
that seemed to be taking their last look of all mortal objects, he 
protested, with the deepest oaths, his total ignorance of any 
design on the person of Rob Roy, whom he swore he loved and 
honored as his own soul. In the inconsistency of his terror, he 
said he was but the agent of others, and he muttered the name 
of Rashleigh. He prayed but for life — for life he would give all 
he had in the world : it was but life he asked — ^life, if it were 
to be prolonged under tortures and privations : he asked only 
breath, though it should be drawn in the damps of the lowest 
caverns of their hills. 

It is impossible to describe the scorn, the loathing, and con- 
tempt, with which the wife of Mac-Gregor regarded this wretched 
petitioner for the poor boon of existence. 

"I could have bid you live," she said, " had life been to you 
the same weary and wasting burden that it is to me — ^that it is 
to every noble, and generous mind. But you — ^wretch ! you 
could creep through the world unaffected by its various disgraces, 
its ineffable miseries, its constantly accumulating masses of crime 
and sorrow : jou could live and enjoy yourself, while the noble- 
minded are betrayed — ^while nameless and birthless villains tread 
on the neck of the brave and the long-descended : you could enjoy 
yourself, like a butcher's dog in the shambles, battening on gar- 
bage, while the slaughter of the oldest and best went on around 
you ! This enjoyment you shall not live to partake of; you shall 
die, base dog, and that before yon cloud has passed over the sun." 

8 



58 THE WAYEELEY GALLERY. 

She gave a brief command in Gaelic to her attendants, two 
of whom seized upon the prostrate supphcant, and hurried him 
to the brink of a cHff which overhung the flood. He set up the 
most piercing and dreadful cries that fear ever uttered — I may 
well term them dreadful, for they haunted my sleep for years 
afterwards. As the murderers, or executioners — call them as 
you will — dragged him along, he recognized me even in that 
moment of horror, and exclaimed, in the last articulate words 
I ever heard him utter, " Oh, Mr. Osbaldistone, save me ! — 
save me ! " 

I was so much moved by this horrid spectacle, that, although 
in momentary expectation of sharing his fate, I did attempt to 
speak in his behalf ; but, as might have been expected, my inter- 
ference was sternly disregarded. The victim was held fast by 
some, while others, binding a large heavy stone in a plaid, tied it 
round his neck, and others again eagerly stripped him of some 
part of his dress. Half-naked, and thus manacled, they hurled 
him into the lake, there about twelve feet deep, with a loud 
halloo of vindictive triumph, above which, however, his last death- 
shriek, the yell of mortal agony, was distinctly heard. The 
heavy burden splashed in the dark-blue waters, and the High- 
landers, with their pole-axes and swords, watched an instant, 
to guard, lest, extricating himself from the load to which he was 
attached, the victim might have struggled to regain the shore. 
But the knot had been securely bound ; the wretched man sunk 
without effort ; the waters, which his fall had distm^bed, settled 
calmly over him, and the unit of that life for which he had 
pleaded so strongly, was forever withdrawn from the sum of 
human existence. 



ISABELLA VERE. 



He brings Earl Osmond to receive my vows. 

dreadful change ! for Tancred, haughty Osmond. 

Tancred and Sigisnounda. 



Mr. Vere, whom long practice of dissimulation had enabled 
to model his very gait and footsteps to aid the purposes of de- 
ception, walked along the stone passage, and up the first flight 
of steps towards Miss Vere's apartment, with the alert, firm, and 
steady pace of one, who is bound, indeed, upon important 
business, but who entertains no doubt he can terminate his af- 
fairs satisfactorily. But when, out of hearing of the gentlemen 
whom he had left, his step became so slow and irresolute, as to 
correspond with his doubts and his fears. At length he paused 
in an antechamber to collect his ideas, and form his plan of ar- 
gument, before approaching his daughter. 

" In what more hopeless and inextricable dilemma was ever 
an unfortunate man involved !" — Such was the tenor of his re- 
flections. — '' If we now fall to pieces by disunion, there can be 
little doubt that the government will take my life as the prime 
agitator of the insurrection. Or, grant I could stoop to save 
myself by a hasty submission, am I not, even in that case, utterly 



go THE WAVERLEY GALLERY. 

ruined ? I have broken irreconcilably with Ratcliffe, and can 
have nothing to expect from that quarter but insult and persecu- 
tion. I must wander forth an impoverished and dishonored 
man, without even the means of sustaining life, far less wealth 
sufficient to counterbalance the infamy which my countrymen, 
both those whom I desert and those whom I join, will attach to 
the name of the political renegade. It is not to be thought of. 
And yet, what choice remains between this lot and the igno- 
minious scaffold ? Nothing can save me but reconciliation with 
these men ; and, to accomplish this, I have promised to Langley 
that Isabella shall marry him ere midnight, and to Mareschal, 
that she shall do so without compulsion. I have but one remedy 
betwixt me and ruin — ^her consent to take a suitor whom she 
dislikes, upon such short notice as would disgust her, even were 
he a favored lover. — But I must trust to the romantic gener- 
osity of her disposition ; and let me paint the necessity of her 
obedience ever so strongly, I cannot overcharge its reality." 

Having finished this sad chain of reflections upon his peril- 
ous condition, he entered his daughter's apartment with every 
nerve bent up to the support of the argument which he was 
about to sustain. Though a deceitful and ambitious man, he 
was not so devoid of natural affection but that he was shocked 
at the part he was about to act, in practising on the feelings of 
a dutiful and affectionate child ; but the recollections, that, if 
he succeeded, his daughter would only be trepanned into an ad- 
vantageous match, and that, if he failed, he himself was a lost 
man, were quite sufficient to drown all scruples. 

He found Miss Yere seated by the window of her dressing- 
room, her head reclining on her hand, and either sunk in slum- 
ber, or so deeply engaged in meditation, that she did not hear 
the noise he made at his entrance. He approached with his 



ISABELLA VERE. ' Ql 

features composed to a deep expression of sorrow and sympathy, 
and, sitting down beside lier, solicited her attention by quietlj/ 
taking her hand, a motion which he did not fail to accompany 
with a deep sigh. 

" My father ! " said Isabella, with a sort of start, which ex- 
pressed at least as much fear, as joy or affection. 

" Yes, Isabella," said Vere, " your unhappy father, who 
comes now as a penitent to crave forgiveness of his daughter for 
an injury done to her in the excess of his affection, and then 
to take leave of her forever." 

" Sir ? Offence to me ? Take leave forever ? "What does all 
this mean ? " said Miss Vere. 

"Yes, Isabella, I am serious. But first let me ask you, 
have you no suspicion that I may have been privy to the strange 
chance which befell you yesterday morning ? " 

" You, sir ? " answered Isabella, stammering between a con- 
sciousness that he had guessed her thoughts justly, and the 
shame as well as fear which forbade her to acknowledge a sus- 
picion so degrading and so unnatural. 

" Yes ! " he continued, " your hesitation confesses that you 
entertained such an opinion, and I have now the painful task 
of acknowledging that your suspicions have done me no injus- 
tice. But listen to my motives. In an evil hour I counte- 
nanced the - addresses of Sir Frederick Langley, conceivhig it 
impossible that you could have any permanent objections to a 
match where the advantages were, in most respects, on your 
side. In a word, I entered with him into measures calculated 
to restore our banished monarch and the independence of my 
country. He has taken advantage of my unguarded confidence, 
and now has my life at his disposal." 

" Your life, sir ? " said Isabella, faintly. 



Q2 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

*' Yes, Isabella/' continued her father, " the life of him who 
gave life to you. So soon as I foresaw the excesses into which 
his headlong passion (for to do him justice, I believe his un- 
reasonable conduct arises from excess of attachment to you) was 
likely to hurry him, I endeavored, by finding a plausible pretext 
for your absence for some weeks, to extricate myself from the 
dilemma in which I am placed. Eor this purpose I wished, in 
case your objections to the match continued insurmountable, to 
have sent you privately for a few months to the convent of your 
maternal aunt at Paris. By a series of mistakes you have been 
brought from the place of secrecy and security which I had 
destined for your temporary abode. Fate has baffled my last 
chance of escape, and I have only to give you my blessing, and 
send you from the castle with Mr. Ratcliffe, who now leaves it ; 
my own fate will soon be decided." 

" Good Heaven, sir ! can this be possible ? " exclaimed 
Isabella. '' Oh, why was I freed from the restraint in which you 
placed me ? or why did you not impart your pleasure to me ? " 

" Think an instant, Isabella. Would you have had me prej- 
udice in your opinion the friend I was most desirous of serving, 
by communicating to you the injmious eagerness with which 
he pursued his object ? Could I do so honorably, having prom- 
ised to assist his suit ? — But it is all over. I and Mareschal 
have made up our minds to die like men ; it only remains to 
send you from hence under a safe escort." 

" Great powers ! and is there no remedy ? " said the ter- 
rified young woman. 

" None, my child," answered Vere, gently, " unless one 
which you would not advise your father to adopt^ — ^to be the first 
to betray his friends." 

" Oh, no ! no ! " she answered, abhorrently yet hastily, as if 



ISABELLA VERE. 63 

to reject tlie temptation which the alternative presented to her. 
" But is there no other hope^ — through flight — through media- 
tion — through supplication ? — I will bend my knee to Sir Fred- 
erick ! " 

" It would be a fruitless degradation ; he is determined on 
his course, and I am equally resolved to stand the hazard of my 
fate. On one condition only he will turn aside from his pur- 
pose, and that condition my lips shall never utter to you." 

" Name it, I conjure you, my dear father ! " exclaimed Isa- 
bella. " What can he ask that we ought not to grant, to pre- 
vent the hideous catastrophe with which you are threatened ? " 

" That, Isabella," said Vere, solemnly, " you shall never 
know, until your father's head has rolled on the bloody scaffold ; 
then, indeed, you will learn there was one sacrifice by which he 
might have been saved." 

" And why not speak it now ? " said Isabella ; " do you 
fear I would flinch from the sacrifice of fortune for your preser- 
vation ? or would you bequeath me the bitter legacy of life- 
long remorse, so oft as I shall think that you perished, while 
there remained one mode of preventing the dreadful misfortune 
that overhangs you ? " 

" Then, my child," said Vere, " since you press me to name 
what I would a thousand times rather leave in silence, I must 
inform you i:hat he will accept for ransom nothing but your 
hand in marriage, and that conferred before midnight this very 
evening ! " 

" This evening, sir ? " said the young lady, struck with hor- 
ror at the proposal — " and to such a man ! — A man ? — a mon- 
ster, who could wish to win the daughter by threatening the 
life of the father — it is impossible ! " 

" You say right, my child," answered her father, " it is indeed 



(34 THE WATEELEY GALLERY. 

impossible ; nor have I either the right or the wish to exact 
such a sacrifice. — It is the course of nature that the old should 
die and be forgot, and the young should Hve and be happy." 

'' My father die, and his child can save him I — ^but no — ^no 
— my dear father, pardon me, it is impossible, you only wish to 
guide me to yom' wishes. I know your object is what you 
think my happiness, and this dreadful tale is only told, to influ- 
ence my conduct and subdue my scruples." 

" My daughter," replied EUieslaw, in a tone where offended 
authority seemed to struggle with parental affection, " my child 
suspects me of inventing a false tale to work upon her feehngs ! 
Even this I must bear, and even from this unworthy suspicion I 
must descend to vindicate myself. You know the stainless 
honor of your cousin ]^Iareschal — ^mark what I shall wiite to him, 
and judge from his answer, if the danger in which we stand is 
not real, and whether I have not used every means to avert it." 

He sat do^ii, wi'ote a few hues hastily, and handed them to 
Isabella, who, after repeated and painful efforts, cleared her eyes 
and head sufiiciently to discern their purport. 

" Dear cousin," said the billet, '' I find my daughter, as I 
expected, in despan at the untimely and premature urgency of 
Sir Frederick Langley. She cannot even comprehend the peril 
in which we stand, or how much we are in his power. Use your 
influence with him, for Heaven's sake, to modify proposals, to 
the acceptance of which I cannot, and will not, urge my child 
against all her own feeluigs, as weU as those of dehcacy and pro- 
priety, and obhge your loving cousin, — R. V." 

In the as^itation of the moment, when her swimming^ eves 
and dizzy brain could hardly comprehend the sense of what 
she looked upon, it is not sm^rising that Miss Yere should have 
omitted to remark that this letter seemed to rest her scruples 



ISABELLA YERE. 65 

rather upon tlie form and time of the proposed union, than on a 
rooted dishke to the suitor proposed to her. Mr. Vere rang the 
bell, and gave the letter to a servant to be delivered to Mr. 
Mareschal, and, rising from his chair, continued to traverse the 
apartment in silence and in great agitation until the answer was 
returned. He glanced it over, and wrung the hand of his daugh- 
ter as he gave it to her. The tenor was as follows : — 

" My dear kinsman, I have already urged the knight on the 
point you mention, and I find him as fixed as Cheviot. I am 
truly sorry my fair cousin should be pressed to give up any of 
her maidenly rights. Sir Frederick consents, however, to leave 
the castle with me the instant the ceremony is performed, and 
we will raise our followers and begin the fray. Thus there is 
great hope the bridegroom may be knocked on the head before 
he and the bride can meet again, so Bell has a fair chance to be 
Lady Langley a tres ton mar cite. Tor the rest, I can only 
say, that if she can make up her mind to the alliance at all — it 
is no time for mere maiden ceremony — my pretty cousin must 
needs consent to marry in haste, or we shall all repent at leism^e, 
or rather have very little leisure to repent ; which is all at 
present from him who rests your afibctionate kinsman, — E. M.'' 

"P. S. Tell Isabella that I would rather cut the knight's 
throat after all, and end the dilemma that way, than see her 
constrained to marry him against her will." 

When Miss Vere had read this letter, she became deadly 
pale, clenched her hands, pressing the palms strongly together, 
closed her eyes, and drew her lips with strong compression, as 
if the severe constraint which she put upon her internal feelings 
extended even to her muscular organization. Then raising 
her head, and drawing in her breath strongly ere she spoke, 
she said, with firmness, — ■'' Pather, I consent to the marriage." 
9 



QQ THE "WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

" You sliall not — jou shall not — my child — my dear child — 
you shall not embrace certain misery to free me fr^om imcertain 
danger." 

So exclaimed EUieslaw ; and, strange and inconsistent be- 
ings that we are ! he expressed the real though momentary 
feelings of his heart. 

" Father," repeated Isabella, " I will consent to this mar- 
riage." 

" No, my child, no — ^not now at least — we will humble our- 
selves to obtain delay from him ; and yet, Isabella, could you 
overcome a dishke which has no real foundation, think, in other 
respects, what a match ! — ^wealth — rank — ^importance." 

" Father ! " reiterated Isabella, " I have consented." 

It seemed as if she had lost the power of saving any thing 
else, or even of varying the phrase which, with such efforts, she 
had compelled herself to utter. 

" Forgive me, my child — I go — Heaven bless thee. At 
eleven — if you call me not before — I will come to seek you." 

When he left Isabella she dropped upon her knees. — " Heaven 
aid me to support the resolution I have taken. — Heaven only 
can. — Oh, poor Earnscliff ! who shall comfort him ? and with 
what contempt will he pronounce her name, who listened to him 
to-day and gave herself to another at night ! But let him de- 
spise me — ^better so than that he should know the truth. — Let 
him despise me ; if it will but lessen his grief, I should feel com- 
fort in the loss of his esteem." 

She wept bitterly ; attempting in vain, from time to time, 
to commence the prayer for which she had sunk on her knees, 
but unable to calm her spirits sufficiently for the exercise of de- 
votion. As she remained in this agony of mind, the door of her 
apartment was slowly opened. 




W. ZTuninimd. 



oj.n MOJITO I. : 



JENNY DENNISON. 

While Lady Margaret held, with the high- descended ser- 
geant of dragoons, the conference which we have detailed in the 
preceding pages, her grand-daughter, partaking in a less degree 
her ladyship's enthusiasm for all who were sprung of the blood- 
royal, did not honor Sergeant Both well with more attention 
than a single glance, which showed her a tall, powerful person, 
and a set of hardy, weatherbeaten features, to which pride and 
dissipation had given an air where discontent mingled with the 
reckless gayety of desperation. The other soldiers offered still 
less to detach her consideration ; but from the prisoner, muffled 
and disguised as he was, she found it impossible to withdraw 
her eyes. Yet she blamed herself for indulging a curiosity 
which seemed obviously to give pain to him who was its object. 

" I wish," she said to Jenny Dennison, who was the imme- 
diate attendant on her person — " I wish we knew who that poor 
fellow is." 

"I was just thinking sae mysell. Miss Edith," said the 
waiting woman, " but it canna be Cuddie Headrigg, because 
he's taller and no sae stout." 

" Yet," continued Miss Bellenden, " it may be some poor 



gg THE WAVEELEY GALLERY. 

neighbor, for whom we might have cause to interest our- 
selves/' 

•" I can sune learn wha he is/' said the enterprising Jenny, 
" if the sodgers were anes settled and at leisure, for I ken ane 
o' them very weel — the best-looking and the youngest o' them." 

'' I think you know all the idle young fellows about the 
country," answered her mistress. 

" Na, Miss Edith, I am no sae free o' my acquaintance as 
that," answered the fille-de-chambre. " To be sure, folk canna 
help kenning the folk by headmark that they see aye glo wring 
and looking at them at kirk and market ; but I ken few lads to 
speak to imless it be them o' the family, and the three Stein- 
sons, and Tam Rand, and the young miller, and the five Howi- 
sons in Nethersheils, and lang Tam Gilry, and " • 

" Pray cut short a list of exceptions which threatens to be 
a long one, and tell me how you come to know this young sol- 
dier," said Miss Bellenden. 

" Lord, Miss Edith, it's Tam Halliday, Trooper Tam, as 
they ca' him, that was wounded by the hill-folk at the conventi- 
cle at Outer-side Muir, and lay here while he w^as under cure. 
I can ask him ony thing, and Tam will no refuse to answer me, 
I'll be caution for him." 

" Try, then," said Miss Edith, " if you can find an oppor- 
tunity to ask him the name of his prisoner, and come to my 
room and tell me what he says." 

Jenny Dennison proceeded on her errand, but soon returned 
with such a face of surprise and dismay as evinced a deep in- 
terest in the fate of the prisoner. 

*' What is the matter ? " said Edith, anxiously ; '' does it 
prove to be Cuddie, after all, poor fellow ? " 

" Cuddie, Miss Edith ? Na ! na ! it's nae Cuddie," blub- 



JENNY DENNISON. Qg 

bered out the faithful fille-de-chanibre, sensible of the pain 
which her news was about to inflict on her young mistress. 
" Oh dear, Miss Edith, it's young Milnwood himsell ! " 

" Young Milnwood ! " exclaimed Edith, aghast in her turn ; 
'' it is impossible — totally impossible ! — His uncle attends the 
clergyman indulged by law, and has no connection whatever 
with the refractory people ; and he himself has never interfered 
in this unhappy dissension ; he must be totally innocent, unless 
he has been standing up for some invaded right." 

" Oh, my dear Miss Edith," said her attendant, " these are 
not days to ask what's right or what's wrang ; if he were as in- 
nocent as the new-born infant, they would find some way of 
making him guilty, if they liked ; but Tam Halliday says it will 
touch his life, for he has been resetting ane o' the Eife gentle- 
men that killed that auld carle of an Archbishop." 

" His life ! " exclaimed Edith, starting hastily up, and speak- 
ing wdth a hurried and tremulous accent, — '' they cannot — they 
shall not — ^I will speak for him — they shall not hurt him ! " 

" Oh, my dear young leddy, think on your grandmother ; 
think on the danger and the difficulty," added Jenny ; *' for he's 
kept under close confinement till Claverhouse comes up in the 
morning, and if he doesna gie him full satisfaction, Tam Halli- 
day says there will be brief wark wi' him. — Kneel down— mak 
ready — present — fire — just as they did wi' auld deaf John Mac- 
briar, that never understood a single question they pat till him, 
and sae lost his life for lack o' hearing." 

*' Jenny," said the young lady, " if he should die, I will die 
with him ; there is no time to talk of danger or difficulty. — I 
will put on a plaid, and slip down with you to the place where 
they have kept him. — I will throw myself at the feet of the sen- 
tinel, and entreat him, as he has a soul to be saved,"- 



7Q THE WAVERLEY GA.LLERY. 

" Ell ! guide us," interrupted the maid, '' our young leddy 
at the feet o' Trooper Tarn, and speaking to him about his 
soul, when the puir chield hardly kens whether he has ane or no, 
unless that he whiles swears by it — that will never do ; but what 
maun be maun be, and I'll never desert a true love cause. — And 
sae, if ye maun see young Milnwood, though I ken no gude it 
will do, but to make baith your hearts the sairer, I'll e'en tak 
the risk o't, and try to manage Tam HaUiday ; but ye maun let 
me hae my ain gate and no speak ae word — he's keeping guard 
o'er Milnwood in the easter round of the tower.'* 

" Go, go, fetch me a plaid," said Edith. " Let me but see 
him, and I will find some remedy for his danger. — Haste ye, 
Jenny, as ever ye hope to have good at my hands." 

Jenny hastened, and soon returned with a plaid, in which 
Edith muffled herself so as in part to disguise her person. This 
was a mode of arranging the plaid very common among the 
ladies of that century, and the earher part of the succeeding one ; 
so much so, indeed, that the venerable sages of the Kirk, con- 
ceiving that the mode gave tempting facihties for intrigue, direct- 
ed more than one act of Assembly against this use of the 
mantle. But fashion, as usual, proved too strong for authority, 
and while plaids continued to be worn, women of all ranks 
occasionally employed them as a sort of muffler or veil. Her 
face and figure thus concealed, Edith, holding by her attendant's 
arm, hastened with trembling steps to the place of Morton's 
confinement. 

This was a small study or closet, in one of the turrets, open- 
ing upon a gallery in which the sentinel was pacing to and fro ; 
for Sergeant Bothwell, scrupulous in observing his word, and 
perhaps touched with some compassion for the prisoner's youth 
and genteel demeanor, had waived the indignity of putting his 



JENNY DENNISON. 71 

guard into the same apartment witli liim. Halliday, therefore, 
with his carbine on his arm, walked np and down the gallery, 
occasionally solacing himself with a draught of ale, a huge flagon 
of which stood upon a table at one end of the apartment, and at 
other times humming the lively Scottish air, 

'* Between Saint Johnstone and Bonny Dundee, 
I'll gar ye be fain to follow me." 

Jenny Dennison cautioned her mistress once more to let her 
take her own way. 

*' I can manage the trooper weel eneugh," she said ; " for as 
rough as he is, I ken their nature weel ; but ye maunna say a 
single word." 

She accordingly opened the door of the gallery jnst as the 
sentinel had turned his back from it, and taking up the tune 
which he hummed, she sung in a coquettish tone of rustic raillery, 

" If I were to follow a poor sodger lad, 
My friends wad be angry, my minnie be mad ; 
A laird, or a lord, they were fitter for me, 
Sae I'll never be fain to follow thee." 

'^ A. fair challenge, by Jove," cried the sentinel turning round, 
" and from two at once ; but it's not easy to bang the soldier 
with his bandoleers ;" then taking up the song where the damsel 
had stopped 

" To follow me ye weel may be glad, 
A share of my supper, a share of my bed, 
To the sound of the drum to range fearless and free, 
I'll gar ye be fain to follow me." 

" Come, my pretty lass, and kiss me for my song." 



n 



THE WAYEELEY GALLEEY. 



" I should not have tliought of that, Mr. HalUday," answer- 
ed Jenny, with a look and tone expressing just the necessary 
degree of contempt at the proposal, '' and I'se assure ye, ye '11 
hae but little o' my company unless ye show gentler havings. — 
It wasna to hear that sort o' nonsense that brought me here wi' 
my friend, and ye should think shame o' your sell, 'at should ye." 

" Umph ! and what sort of nonsense did bring you here then, 
Mrs. Dennison ? " 

"My kinswoman has some particular business with your 
prisoner, young Mr. Harry Morton, and I am come wi' her to 
speak till him." 

" The devil you are ! " answered the sentinel ; " and pray, 
Mrs. Dennison, how do your kinswoman and you propose to get 
in ? You are rather too plump to whisk through a keyhole, and 
opening the door is a thing not to be spoken of." 

'' It's no a thing to be spoken o', but a thing to be dune," 
replied the persevering damsel. 

" We'll see about that, my bonny Jenny ;" and the soldier 
resumed his march, humming, as he walked to and fro along the 
gallery, 

*' Keek into tlie draw-well, 
Janet, Janet, 
Tlien ye'll see your bonny sell, 

My joe Janet." 

" So ye're no thinking to let us in, Mr. Halhday ? Weel, 
weel ; gude e'en to you — ye hae seen the last o' me, and o' this 
bonny die too," said Jenny, holding between her finger and 
thumb a splendid silver dollar. 

'' Give him gold, give him gold," whispered the agitated 
young lady. 

" Silver's e'en ower gude for the like o' him," replied Jenny, 



JENNY DENNISON. 73 

'' that disna care for the bhnk o' a bonny lassie's ee — and what's 
waur, he wad think there was something mair in't than a kins- 
woman o' mine. My certy 1 siller's no sae plenty wi' us, let 
alane gowd." Having addressed this advice aside to her mis- 
tress, she raised her voice, and said, " My cousin winna stay ony 
langer, Mr. Halliday; sae, if ye please, gude e'en t'ye." 

" Halt a bit, halt a bit," said the trooper ; " rein up and 
parley, Jenny. If I let your kinswoman in to speak to my 
prisoner, you may stay here and keep me company till she come 
out again, and then we'll all be well pleased you know." 

" The fiend be in my feet then," said Jenny ; " d'ye think 
my kinswoman and me are gaun to lose our gude name wi' 
cracking clavers wi' the likes o' you or your prisoner either, with- 
out somebody by to see fair play ? Heigh, heigh, sirs, to see 
sic a difference between folk's promises and performances ! ye 
were aye willing to shght puir Cuddie ; but an I had asked him 
to oblige me in a thing, though it had been to cost his hanging, 
he wadna hae stude twice about it." 

" D — n Cuddie ! " retorted the dragoon, " he'll be hanged 
in good earnest, I hope. I saw him to-day at Milnwood with 
his old puritanical mother, and if I had thought I was to have 
had him cast in my dish, I would have brought him up at my 
horse's tail — ^we had law enough to bear us out." 

" Very weel, very weel. — See if Cuddie winna hae a lang 
shot at you ane o' thae days, if ye gar him tak the muir wi' sae 
mony honest folk. He can hit a mark brawly ; he was third at 
the popinjay ; and he's as true of his promise as of ee and hand, 
though he disna mak sic a phrase about it as some acquaint- 
ance o' yours. — But it's a' ane to me.' — Come, cousin, we'll 



awa . 



*' Stay, Jenny ; d — n me, if I hang fire more than another 
10 



74 THE WAYEELEY GALLERY. 

when I have said a thing/' said the soldier, in a hesitating tone. 
'' Where is the sergeant ? " 

" Drinking and diiving ower/' quoth Jenny, '• wi' the 
Steward and John GudyilL''' 

'' So, so — ^he's safe enough — and where are mv comrades ? " 
asked Halliday. 

" Birhng the brown bowl wi' the fowler and the falconer, 
and some o' the ser^iag folk.'"' 

" Have they plenty of ale r " 

''Sax gallons, as gnde as e'er was masked," said the maid. 

'' Well, then, my pretty Jenny," said the relenting sentinel, 
'* they are fast till the horn' of relie^iug guard, and perhaps 
something later ; and so, if yon -^^ill promise to come alone the 
next time " 

" ]\Iaybe I will, and maybe I winna," said Jenny ; '' but if 
ye get the dollar, ye'll hke that just as week" 

" And if I were trusting to you, you httle jilting devil, I 
should lose both pains and powder; whereas this fellow," look- 
ing at the piece, '' will be good as far as he goes. So, come, 
there is the door open for you ; do not stay groaning and pray- 
ing with the vomio; ^Yhio: now, but be readv, when I call at the 
door, to start, as if they were sounding ' Horse and away.' " 

So speaking, HaUiday unlocked the door of the closet, ad- 
mitted Jenny and her pretended kinswoman, locked it behind 
them, and hastily reassumed the indifferent measured step and 
time-killing whistle of a sentinel upon his regular duty. 



EDITH BELLENDEN. 

The door, which slowly opened, discovered Morton with 
both arms reclined upon a table, and his head resting upon them 
in a posture of deep dejection. He raised his face as the door 
opened, and, perceiving the female figures which it admitted, 
started up in great surprise. Edith, as if modesty had quelled 
the courage which despair had bestowed, stood about a yard 
from the door "without having either the power to speak or to 
advance. All the plans of aid, rehef, or comfort, which she had 
proposed to lay before her lover, seemed at once to have vanished 
from her recollection, and left only a painful chaos of ideas, with 
which was mingled a fear that she had degraded herself in the 
eyes of Morton, by a step which might appear precipitate and 
unfeminine. 'She hung motionless and almost powerless upon 
the arm of her attendant, who in vain endeavored to reassure 
and inspire her with courage, by whispering, " We are in now, 
madam, and we maun mak the best o' our time ; for, doubtless, 
the corporal or the sergeant will gang the rounds, and it wad be 
a pity to hae the poor lad Halliday punished for his civility." 

Morton, in the mean time, was timidly advancing, suspecting 
the truth ; for what other female in the house, excepting Edith 



ijQ THE ^AYEELEY GALLEEY. 

herself, was likely to take an interest in Ms misfortunes ; and 
vet afraid, owing to the doubtful twihght and muffled dress, of 
making some mistake which might be prejudicial to the object 
of his affections. Jenny, whose ready wit and forward manners 
well qualified her for such an office, hastened to break the ice. 

''Mr. Moii:on, Miss Edith's veiy sony for yom- present 
situation, and" 

It was needless to say more ; he was at her side, almost at 
her feet, pressing her unresisting hands, and loading her with a 
profusion of thanks, and gratitude which would be hardly in- 
teUigible, from the mere broken words, unless we could describe 
the tone, the gestm^e, the impassioned and hmTied indications 
of deep and tumultuous feeling, with which they were accom- 
panied. 

For two or thi'ee minutes, Edith stood as motionless as the 
statue of a saint which receives the adoration of a worshipper ; 
and when she recovered herself sufficiently to withdi'aw her 
hands from Henry's grasp, she could at fii'st only faintly articu- 
late, " I have taken a strange step, Mr. Morton — a step," she 
continued, with more coherence, as her ideas aiTanged them- 
selves in consequence of a strong effort, "that perhaps may ex- 
pose me to censure in your eyes. But I have long permitted 
you to use the language of friendship — ^perhaps I might say 
more — too Ions: to leave vou when the world seems to have left 
you. How, or why, is this imprisonment ? what can be done ? 
can my uncle, who thinks so highly of you — can yom- own kins- 
mau, Milnwood, be of no user are there no means? and what 
is hkely to be the event ? " 

''Be what it wiU," answered Hemy, contri\-ing to make 
himself master of the hand that had escaped from him, but 
ahich was now again abandoned to his clasp, "be what it 



EDITH BELLENDEN. 77 

will, it is to me from this moment tlie most welcome incident 
of a wearj life. To you, dearest Edith — ^forgive me, I should 
have said Miss Bellenden, but misfortune claims strange privi- 
leges — to you I have owed the few happy moments which have 
gilded a gloomy existence ; and if I am now to lay it down, the 
recollection of this honor will be my happiness in the last hour 
of suffering." 

" But is it even thus, Mr. Morton ? " said Miss Bellenden. 
" Have you, who used to mix so little in these unhappy feuds, 
become so suddenly and deeply implicated, that nothing short 
of"— 

She paused, unable to bring out the word which should 
have come next. 

" Nothing short of my life, you would say ? " replied Mor- 
ton, in a calm but melancholy tone ; " I believe that will be en- 
tirely in the bosoms of my judges. My guards spoke of a pos- 
sibility of exchanging the penalty for entry into foreign service. 
I thought I could have embraced the alternative ; and yet. Miss 
Bellenden, since I have seen you once more, I feel that exile 
would be more galling than death." 

" And is it then true," said Edith, " that you have been so 
desperately rash as to entertain communication with any of those 
cruel wretches who assassinated the primate ? " 

" I 'knew not even that such a crime had been committed," 
replied Morton, " when I gave unhappily a night's lodging and 
concealment to one of those rash and cruel men, the ancient 
friend and comrade of my father. But my ignorance will avail 
me little ; for who, Miss Bellenden, save you, will believe it ? 
And, what is worse, I am at least uncertain whether, even if I 
had known the crime, I could have brought my mind, under all 
the circumstances, to refuse a temporary refuge to the fugitive." 



78 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

"And by whom/' said Edith, anxiously, "or under what 
authority, will the investigation of your conduct take 
place ? " 

" Under that of Colonel Grahame of Claverhouse, I am given 
to understand,'' said Morton ; " one of the military commission, 
to whom it has pleased our king, our pri^y council, and our par- 
liament, that used to be more tenacious of om' liberties, to com- 
mit the sole charge of our goods and of our lives." 

" You are lost — you are lost, if you are to plead your cause 
with Claverhouse ! " sighed Edith ; " root and branchwork is 
the mildest of his expressions. The unhappy primate was his 
intimate friend and early patron. ' Xo excuse, no subterfuge,' 
said his letter, ' shall save either those connected with the deed, 
or such as have given them countenance and shelter, from the 
ample and bitter penalty of the law, until I shall have taken as 
many Hves in vengeance of this atrocious murder as the old man 
had gray hairs upon his venerable head.' There is neither ruth 
nor favor to be found with him." 

Jenny Dennison, who had hitherto remained silent, now 
ventured, in the extremity of distress which the lovers felt, but 
for which they were unable to devise a remedy, to offer her own 
advice. 

" Wi' your leddyship's pardon, Miss Edith, and young Mi. 
Morton's, we maunna waste time. Let Milnwood take my plaid 
and gown ; I'll shp them aff in the dark corner, if he'll promise 
no to look about, and he may walk past Tam Halhday, who is 
half bhnd with his ale, and I can tell him a canny way to get 
out o' the Tower, and your leddyship will gang quietly to yom- 
ain room, and 111 row my sell in his gray cloak, and pit on his 
hat, and play the prisoner till the coast's clear, and then I'll cry 
in Tam Halliday, and gar him let me out." 



EDITH BELLENDEN. rjg 

" Let you out ? " said Morton ; " they'll make your life an- 
swer it." 

*' Ne'er a bit," replied Jenny ; " Tarn daurna tell lie let ony 
body in, for bis ain sake : and I'll gar bim find some other gate 
to account for the escape." 

" Will you, by G — ? " said the sentinel, suddenly opening 
the door of the apartment ; " if I am half blind, I am not deaf, 
and you should not plan an escape quite so loud, if you expect 
to go through with it. Come, come, Mrs. Janet — march, troop 
— quick time — trot, d — ^n me ! And you, madam kinswoman 
' — I won't ask your real name, though you were going to play 
me so rascally a trick — ^but I must make a clear garrison ; so 
beat a retreat, unless you would have me turn out the guard." 

" I hope," said Morton, very anxiously, " you will not men- 
tion this circumstance, my good friend, and trust to my honor 
to acknowledge your civility in keeping the secret. If you 
overheard our conversation, you must have observed that we did 
not accept of, or enter into, the hasty proposal made by this 
good-natured girl." 

"Oh, devilish good-natured, to be sure," said Halliday. 
" As for the rest, I guess how it is, and I scorn to bear malice, 
or tell tales, as much as another ; but no thanks to that little 
jilting devil, Jenny Dennison, who deserves a tight skelping for 
trying to lead an honest lad into a scrape, just because he was 
so silly as to like her good-for-little chit face." 

Jenny had no better means of justification than the last 
apology to which her sex trust, and usually not in vain ; she 
pressed her handkerchief to her face, sobbed with great vehe- 
mence, and either wept, or managed, as Halhday might have 
said, to go through the motions wonderfully well. 

" And now," continued the soldier, somewhat mollified, " if 



go THE WATEELEY GALLERY. 

you have any thing to say, say it in two minutes, and let me see 
your backs tmned ; for if Bothweil take it into his drunken 
liead to make tlie rounds half an horn- too soon, it will be a black 
business to us all." 

'•' Farewell, Edith," whispered !Moiton, assuming a firmness 
he was far fi'om possessing ; '•' do not remain here — ^leave me to 
my fate — ^it cannot be beyx)nd endurance, since you are interest- 
ed in it. Good night, good night ! Do not remain here till 
you are discovered." 

Thus saying, he resigned her to her attendant, by whom she 
was partly led and partly supported out of the apartment. 

"Every one has his taste, to be sure," said Halhday; "but 
d — u me if I would have vexed so sweet a girl as that is, for all 
the whigs that ever swore the Covenant." 




Wjy£RLEr SOjuLERT 



■rnHKF SP MID: 



JEANIE DEANS. 

She was short, and ratlier too stoutly made for her size, had 
gray eyes, hght-colored hair, a round good-humored face, much 
tanned with the sun, and her only peculiar charm was an air of 
inexpressible serenity, which a good conscience, kind feelings, 
contented temper, and the regular discharge of all her duties, 
spread over her features. There was nothing, it may be supposed, 
very appallmg in the form or manners of this rustic heroine. 

'' Reuben," she said, at once, " I am bound on a lang jour- 
ney — I am gaun to Lunnon to ask Effie's life of the king and 
of the queen." 

" Jeanie ! you are surely not yourself," answered Butler, in 
the utmost surprise ; you go to London — you address the king 
and queen ! " 

" And what for no, Keuben ? " said Jeanie, with all the com- 
posed simplicity of her character ; " it's but speaking to a mor- 
tal man and woman when a' is done. And their hearts maun 
be made o' flesh and blood like other folk's, and Eflie's story 
wad melt them were they stane. Eorby, I hae heard that they 
are no sic bad folk as what the Jacobites ca' them." 

" Yes, Jeanie," said Butler ; " but their magnificence — their 
retinue — ^the difficulty of getting audience ? " 
11 



g2 THE TVAYERLEY GALLERY. 

" I have tliouglit of a' that, Reuben, and it shall not break 
my spuit. Xae doubt their claiths will be very grand, wi' their 
crowns on their heads, and their sceptres in their hands, hke 
the great King Ahasuerus when he sate upon his royal throne 
foranent the gate of his house, as we are told in Scripture. 
But I have that within me that will keep my heart from faHing, 
and I am amaist sure that I will be strengthened to speak the 
errand I came for/' 

"Alas' alas !" said Butler, "the kings now-a-days do not 
sit in the gate to administer justice, as in patriarchal times. I 
know as httle of courts as you do, Jeanie, by experience ; but 
by reading and report I know, that the King of Britain does 
ever^' thins; bv means of his ministers." 

" And if they be upright. God-fearing ministers," said Jeanie, 
"' it's sae muckle the better chance for Efl&e and me." 

" But you do not even imderstand the most ordinary words 
relating to a com't," said Butler; "by the ministry is meant not 
clergymen, but the king's official servants." 

" Xae doubt," retmned Jeanie, " he maun hae a great num- 
ber mair, I daur to say, than the Duchess has at Dalkeith, and 
great folk's servants are aye man- saucy than themselves. But 
I'll be decently put on, and I'll offer them a trifle o' siller, as if 
I came to see the palace. Or, if they scruple that, I'll tell them 
I'm come on a business of life and death, and then they wiU 
surely bring me to speech of the king and queen." 

Butler shook his head. " Oh Jeanie, this is eutii'ely a wild 
dream. You can never see them but through some great lord's 
intercession, and I think it is scarce possible even then." 

" Weel, but maybe I can get that too," said Jeanie, " with 
a little helping from you." 

" From me, Jeanie, this is the wildest imagpaation of all." 



JEANIE DEAIs^S. 83 

" Aye, but it is not, Keubeii. Havena I heard you say that 
your grandfather (that my father never hkes to hear about) did 
some gude langsyne to the forbear of this Mac-Callummore, 
when he was Lord of Lorn ? " 

" He did so," said Butler, eagerly, " and I can prove it — I 
will write to the Duke of Argyle — report speaks him a good 
kindly man, as he is known for a brave soldier and true patriot 
— I will conjure him to stand between your sister and this cruel 
fate. There is but a poor chance of success, but we will try all 
means." 

" We must try all means," replied Jeanie ; " but writing 
winna do it — a letter canna look, and pray, and beg, and be- 
seech, as the human voice can do to the human heart. A let- 
ter's like the music that the ladies have for their spinits — naeth- 
ing but black scores, compared to the same tune played or sung. 
It's word of mouth maun do it, or naething, Reuben." 

" You are right," said Reuben, re-collecting his firmness, 
" and I will hope that Heaven has suggested to your kind heart 
and firm courage the only possible means of saving the life of 
this unfortunate girl. But, Jeanie, you must not take this most 
perilous journey alone; I have an interest in you, and I will 
not agree that my Jeanie throws herself away. You must even, 
in the present circumstances, give me a husband's right to pro- 
tect you, and I will go with you myself on this journey, and 
assist you to do your duty by your family." 

"Alas, Reuben !" said Jeanie in her turn, " this must not 
be ; a pardon will not gie my sister her fair fame again, or 
make me a bride fitting for an honest man and a usefu' min- 
ister. Wha wad mind what he said in the pu'pit, that had to 
wife the sister of a woman that was condemned for sic wicked- 
ness ! " 



84 THE WAVERLEY GALLERY. 

'' But, Jeanie/' pleaded lier lover, " I do not believe, and I 
cannot believe, tbat Effie has done this deed." 

" Heaven bless you for saying sae, Keuben ! " answered 
Jeanie ; " but she maun bear tbe blame o't, after all." 

'' But tbat blame, were it even justly laid on her, does not 
fall on you." 

" Ah, Reuben, Reuben," replied the young w^oman, " ye 
ken it is a blot that spreads to kith and kin. Ichabod — as my 
poor father says — the glory is departed from our house : for the 
poorest man's house has a glory, where there are true hands, a 
divine heart, and an honest fame — and the last has gane frae 
us a . 

" But, Jeanie, consider your word and plighted faith to me ; 
and would ye undertake such a journey without a man to pro- 
tect you? — and who should that protector be but your hus- 
band?" 

" You are kind and good, Reuben, and wad tak me wi' a' 
my shame, I doubtna. But ye canna but own that this is no 
time to marry or be given in marriage. Na, if that suld ever 
be, it maun be in another and a better season. — And, dear 
Reuben, ye speak of protecting me on my journey — Alas ! who 
will protect and take care of you ? — ^your very limbs tremble 
with standing for ten minutes on the floor ; how could you un- 
dertake a journey as far as L'innon ? 

" But I am strong — I am well," continued Butler, sinking in 
his seat totally exhausted, "at least I shall be quite well to- 
morrow." 

'' Ye see, and ye ken, ye maun just let me depart," said 
Jeanie, after a pause ; and then taking his extended hand, and 
gazing kindly in his face, she added, " It's e'en a grief the mair 



JEANIE DEANS. 85 

to me to see you in this way. But ye maun keep up your heart 
for Jeanie's sake, for if she isna your wife, she will never be the 
wife of living man. And now gie me the paper for Mac-Cal- 
lummore, and bid God speed me on my way." 

There was something of romance in Jeanie's venturous reso- 
lution ; yet, on consideration, as it seemed impossible to alter it 
by persuasion, or to give her assistance but by advice, Butler, 
after some further debate, put into her hands the paper she de- 
sired, which, with the muster-roll in which it was folded up, 
were the sole memorials of the stout and enthusiastic Bible 
Butler, his grandfather. While Butler sought this document, 
Jeanie had time to take up his pocket Bible. '' I have marked 
a scripture," she said, as she again laid it down, '' with your 
kylevine pen, that will be useful to us baith. And ye maun 
tak the trouble, Beuben, to write a' this to my father, for, God 
help me, I have neither head nor hand for lang letters at ony 
time, forby now ; and I trust him entirely to you, and I trust 
you will soon be permitted to see him. And, Beuben, when ye 
do win to the speech o' him, mind a' the auld man's bits o' 
ways, for Jeanie's sake ; and dinna speak o' Latin or English 
terms to him, for he's o' the auld warld, and downa bide to be 
fashed wi' them, though I daresay he may be wrang. And 
dinna ye say muckle to him, but set him on speaking himsell, 
for he'll bring himsell mair comfort that way. And oh, 
Reuben, the poor lassie in yon dungeon ! — But I nccdna bid 
your kind heart — gie her what comfort yc can as soon as they 
will let yc see her — tell her — But I maunna speak mair about 
her, for I maunna take leave o' yc wi' the tear in my co, for that 
wadna be canny. — God bless yc, llcuben ! " 

To avoid so ill an omen she left the room hastily, while her 



86 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

features yet retained the mournful and affectionate smile which 
she had compelled them to wear, in order to support Butler's 
spirits. 

It seemed as if the power of sight, of speech, and of reflec- 
tion, had left him as she disappeared from the room, which she 
had entered and retired from so like an apparition. 



EFFIE DEANS. 

Effie Deans, under tlie tender and affectionate care of 
her sister, had now shot up into a beautiful and blooming girl. 
Her Grecian-shaped head was profusely rich in waving ringlets 
of brown hair, which, confined by a blue snood of silk, and 
shading a laughing Hebe countenance, seemed the picture of 
health, pleasure, and contentment. Her brown russet short- 
gown set off a shape, which time, perhaps, might be expected to 
render too robust, the frequent objection to Scottish beauty, but 
which, in her present early age, was slender and taper, with that 
graceful and easy sweep of outline which at once indicates 
health and beautiful proportion of parts. 

These growing charms, in all their juvenile profusion, had 
no power to shake the steadfast mind, or divert the fixed gaze, 
of the constant Laird of Dumbiedikes. But there was scarce 
another eye that could behold this living picture of health and 
beauty, without pausing on it with pleasure. The traveller 
stopped his weary horse on the eve of entering the city which 
was the end of his journey, to gaze at the sylph-like form that 



gg THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

tripped by him, with her milk-pail poised on her head, bearing 
herself so erect, and stepping so light and free nnder her bur- 
den, that it seemed rather an ornament than an encumbrance. 
The lads of the neighboring suburb, who held their evening 
rendezvous for putting the stone, casting the hammer, playing 
at long bowls, and other athletic exercises, watched the motions 
of Effie Deans, and contended with each other which should 
have the good fortune to attract her attention. Even the rigid 
presbyterians of her father's persuasion, who held each indul- 
gence of the eye and sense to be a snare at least, if not a crime, 
were surprised into a moment's delight while gazing on a crea- 
ture so exquisite, — instantly checked by a sigh, reproaching at 
once their own weakness, and mourning that a creature so fair 
should share in the common and hereditary guilt and imperfec- 
tion of our nature. She was currently entitled the Lily of St. 
Leonard's, a name which she deserved as much by her guileless 
purity of thought, speech, and action, as by her uncommon love- 
liness of face and person. 

Yet there were points in Effie's character, which gave rise 
not only to strange doubt and anxiety on the part of Douce 
David Deans, whose ideas were rigid, as may easily be supposed, 
upon the subject of youthful amusements, but even of serious 
apprehension to her more indulgent sister. The children of the 
Scotch of the inferior classes are usually spoiled by the early in- 
dulgence of their parents ; how, wherefore, and to what degree, 
the lively and instructive narrative of the amiable and accom- 
plished authoress of " Glenburnie " has saved me and all future 
scribblers the trouble of recording. Effie had had a double share 
of this inconsiderate and misjudged kindness. Even the strict- 
ness of her father's principles could not condemn the sports of 
infancy and childhood ; and to the good old man, his younger 



EFFIE DEANS. 89 

daughter, the child of his old age, seemed a child for some 
years after she attained the years of womanhood, was still called 
the "bit lassie " and "little Effie," and was permitted to run up 
and down uncontrolled, unless upon the Sabbath, or at the 
times of family worship. Her sister, with all the love and care 
of a mother, could not be supposed to possess the same authori- 
tative influence ; and that which she had hitherto exercised be- 
came gradually limited and diminished as Effie's advancing years 
entitled her, in her own conceit at least, to the right of independ- 
ence and free agency. With all the innocence and goodness 
of disposition, therefore, which we have described, the Lily of 
St. Leonard's possessed a little fund of self-conceit and obsti- 
nacy, and some warmth and irritabihty of temper, partly natural 
perhaps, but certainly much increased by the unrestrained free- 
dom of her childhood. Her character will be best illustrated 
by a cottage evening scene. 

The careful father was absent in his well-stocked byre, fod- 
dering those useful and patient animals on whose produce his 
living depended, and the summer evening was beginning to 
close in, when Jeanie Deans began to be very anxious for the 
appearance of her sister, and to fear that she would not reach 
home before her father returned from the labor of the evening, 
when it was his custom to have " family exercise," and when 
she knew that Effie's absence would give him the most serious 
displeasure. These apprehensions hung heavier upon her mind, 
because, for several preceding evenings, Effie had disappeared 
about the same time, and her stay, at first so brief as scarce to 
be noticed, had been gradually protracted to half an hour, and 
an hour, and on the present occasion had considerably exceeded 
even this last limit. And now, Jeanie stood at the door, with 
her hand before her eyes to avoid the rays of the level sun, and 
12 



90 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

looked alternately along the various tracks wliich led towards 
tlieir dwelling, to see if slie could descry the nymph-like form 
of her sister. There was a wall and a stile which separated the 
royal domain, or King's Park, as it is called, from the public 
road ; to this pass she frequently directed her attention, when 
she saw two persons appear there somewhat suddenly, as if they 
had walked close by the side of the wall to screen themselves 
from observation. One of them, a man, drew back hastily ; 
the other, a female, crossed the stile, and advanced towards her. — 
It was Effie. She met her sister with that affected hveliness of 
manner, which, in her rank, and sometimes in those above it, 
females occasionally assume to hide surprise or confusion ; and 
she carolled as she came — 

<• The elfin knight sate on the brae, 

The broom grows bonny, the broom grows fair ; 
And by there came lilting a lady so gay, 
And we danrna gang down to the broom nae mair." 

" Whisht, Effie," said her sister ; " our father's coming out 
o' the byre." — The damsel stinted in her song. — '' Whare hae 
ye been sae late at e'en ? " 

" It's no late, lass," answered Effie. 

" It's chappit eight on every clock o' the town, and the sun's 
gami down ahint the Corstorphine hills — Whare can ye hae 
been sae late ? " 

" Nae gate," answered Effie. 

" And wha was that parted wi' you at the stile ? " 

'' Naebody," replied Effie, once more. 

" Nae gate ? — Naebody ? — I wish it may be a right 
gate, and a right body, that keeps folk out sae late at e'en, 
Effie." 



EFFIE DEANS. 91 

" What needs ye be aye speering tlien at folk ? " retorted 
Effie. " I'm sure, if ye'll ask iiae questions, I'll tell ye 
nae lees. I never ask wliat brings the Laird of Dumbie- 
dikes glowering here like a wull-cat, (only his een's greener, 
and no sae gleg,) day after day, till we are a' like to gaunt our 
chafts aff." 

"Because ye ken very weel he comes to see our father," said 
Jeanie, in answer to this pert remark. 

"And Dominie Butler — ^Does he come to see om^ father, 
that's sae taen wi' his Latin words ? " said Effie, delighted to 
find that, by carrying the war into the enemy's country, she 
could divert the threatened attack upon herself, and with the 
petulance of youth she pursued her triumph over her prudent 
elder sister. She looked at her with a sly air, in which there was 
something like irony, as she chanted, in a low but marked tone, 
a scrap of an old Scotch song — 

" Tliroiigli tlie kirkyard 
I met ^Yi' tlie Laircl, 

The silly piiir body lie said me nae harm ; 
But just ere 'twas dark, 
I met Avi' the clerk" 

Here the -songstress stopped, looked full at her sister, and, 
observing the tear gather in her eyes, she suddenly flung her 
arms round her neck, and kissed them away. Jeanie, though 
hurt and displeased, was unable to resist the caresses of 
this untaught child of nature, whose good and evil seemed 
to flow rather from impulse than from reflection. But 
as she returned the sisterly kiss, in token of perfect re- 
conciliation, she could not suppress the gcntlo reproof — ■ 



92 THE "WAVEELEY GALLEKY. 

"Effie, if ye will learn fule sangs, ye might make a kinder 
nse of them/' 

" And so I might, Jeanie," continued the girl, clinging to 
her sister's neck; " and I wish I had never learned ane o' 
them — and I wish we had never come here — and I wish my 
tongue had been bhstered or I had vexed ye." 




y-^.A 



/? 



\'AvmuM7 g/Iij.:-:r 



MADGE WILDFIRE. 

" But these are sad tales to tell — I maun just sing a bit to 
keep up my heart — It's a sang that Gentle George made on me 
lang syne, when I went with him to Lockington wake, to see 
him act upon a stage, in fine clothes, with the player folk. He 
might have dune waur than married me that night as he prom- 
ised — ^better wed over the mixen as over the moor, as they say 
in Yorkshire — ^he may gang further and fare waur — ^but that's a' 
ane to the sang • 

' I'm Madge of the country, Pm Madge of the town, 
And I'm Madge of the lad I am blithest to own — 
The Lady of Beever in diamonds may shine. 
But has not a heart half so lightsome as mine. 

I am Queen of the Wake, and I'm Lady of May, 
And I lead the blithe ring round the M ay-pole to-day : 
The wild-fire that flashes so fair and so free, 
Was never so bright, or so bonny, as me.' 

*' I like that the best o' a' my sangs," continued the maniac, " be- 
cause /le made it. I am often singing it, and that's maybe the 



94 - THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

reason folk ca' me Madge Wildfire. I aye answer to tlie name, 
tlioiigli it's no my ain, for wliat's the use of making a fash ? " 

"But ye shonldna sing upon the Sabbath, at least/' said 
Jeanie, who, amid all her distress and anxiety, could not help 
being scandalized at the deportment of her companion, espe- 
cially as they now approached near to the httle village. 

" Ay ! is this Sunday ? " said Madge. " My mother leads 
sic a life, wi' tm^ning night into day, that ane loses a' count o' 
the days o' the week, and disua ken Sunday frae Satm^day. Be- 
sides, it's a' your whiggery — in England, folk sing when they 
like — And then, ye ken, you are Christiana, and I am ]\Iercy — 
and ye ken, as they went on their way, they sang." And she 
immediately raised one of John Bunyan's ditties : 

" ' He that is down need fear no fall, 
He that is low no pride ; 
He that is humble ever shall 
Have God to be his guide. 

" 'Fulness to such a burthen is 
That go on pilgrimage ; 
Here little, and hereafter bliss, 
Is best from ap^e to ao^e.' 

" And do ye ken, Jeanie, I think there's much truth in that 
book, the Pilgrim's Progress. The boy that sings that song 
was feeding his Pather's sheep, in the Valley of Humiliation, 
and Mr. Great-Heart says that he lived a merrier life, and had 
more of the herb called heart's ease' in his bosom, than they that 
wear silk and velvet like me, and are as bonny as I am." 

They were now close by the village, one of those beautiful 
scenes which are so often found in merry England, where the 



MADGE WILDFIEE. 95 

cottages, instead of being huilt in two direct lines on each side 
of a dusty high-road, stand in detached groups, interspersed not 
only with large oaks and elms, but with fruit-trees, so many of 
which were at this time in flourish, that the grove seemed enam- 
elled with their crimson and white blossoms. In the centre of 
the hamlet stood the parish church and its little Gothic tower, 
from which at present was heard the Sunday chime of bells. 

" We will wait here until the folk are a' in the church — they 
ca' the kirk a church in England, Jeanie ; be sure you mind 
that — for if I was gaun forward amang them, a' the gaitts 0' 
boys and lasses wad be crying at Madge Wildfire's tail, the little 
hell-rakers ! and the beadle would be as hard upon us as if it 
was our fault. I like their skirling as ill as he does, I can tell 
him ; I'm sm^e I often wish there was a het peat doun their 
throats when they set them up that gate." 

Conscious of the disorderly appearance of her own dress after 
the adventiu:e of the preceding night, and of the grotesque habit 
and demeanor of her guide, and sensible how important it was 
to secure an attentive and patient audience to her strange story 
from some one who might have the means to protect her, Jeanie 
readily acquiesced in Madge's proposal to rest under the trees, 
by which they were still somewhat screened, until the conimencc- 
ment of service should give them an opportunity of entering the 
hamlet without attracting a crowd around them. She made the 
less opposition, that Madge had intimated that this was not the 
village wliere her mother was in custody, and that tlic two 
squires of the pad were absent in a different direction. 

She sat herself down, therefore, at the foot of an oak, and 
by the assistance of a placid fountain which had been dammed 
up for the use of the villagers, and Avliicli served her as a natnnil 
mirror, she began — no uncommon thing with a Scottish uiiiideu 



96 THE WAYEELEY GALLEKY. 

of her rank — to arrange lier toilette in the open air, and bring 
her dress, soiled and disordered as it was, into such order as the 
place and circumstances admitted. 

She soon perceived reason, however, to regret that she had 
set about this task, however decent and necessary, in the present 
time and societv. Madame Wildfire, who, amoncr other indica- 
tions of insanity, had a most overweening opinion of those 
charms, to which, in fact, she owed her misery, and whose mind, 
like a raft upon a lake, was agitated and driven about at random 
by each fresh impulse, no sooner beheld Jeanie begin to arrange 
her hair, place her bonnet in order, rub the dust from her shoes 
and clothes, adjust her neck-handkerchief and mittens, and so 
forth, than with imitative zeal she began to bedizen and trick 
herself out with shreds and remnants of beggarly finery which 
she took out of a httle bundle, and which, when disposed around 
her person, made her appearance ten times more fantastic and 
apish than it had been before. 

Jeanie groaned in spirit, but dared not interfere in a matter 
so dehcate. Across the man's cap or riding hat which she wore, 
Madge placed a broken and soiled white feather, intersected 
with one which had been shed from the train of a peacock. To 
her dress, which was a kiad of ridiag-habit, she stitched, pianed, 
and otherwise secured, a large forbelow of artificial flowers, all 
crushed, wrinkled, and dirty, which had first bedecked a lady of 
quahty, then descended to her Abigail, and dazzled the inmates 
of the ser\"ants'-hall. A tawdry scarf of yellow silk, trimmed 
with tinsel and spangles, which had seen as hard service, and 
boasted as honorable a transmission, was next fiung over one 
shoulder, and fell across her person in the manner of a shoulder- 
belt, or baldrick. Madge then stripped off the coarse ordinary 
shoes which she wore and replaced them by a pair of dirty 



MADGE "WILDFIEE. 97 

satin ones, spangled and embroidered to match tlie scarf, and 
furnished with very high heels. She had cut a willow switch 
in her morning's walk, almost as long as a boy's fishing-rod. 
This she set herself seriously to peel, and when it was trans- 
formed into such a wand as the Treasurer or High Steward 
bears on public occasions, she told Jeanie that she thought they 
now looked decent, as young women should do upon the Sun- 
day morning, and that as the bells had done ringing, she was 
willing to conduct her to the Interpreter's house. 

Jeanie sighed heavily, to think it should be her lot on the 
Lord's-day, and during kirk-time too, to parade the street of an 
inhabited village with so very grotesque a comrade ; but ne- 
cessity had no law, since, without a positive quarrel with the 
mad woman, which, in the circumstances, would have been very 
unadvisable, she could see no means of shaking herself free of 
her society. 

As for poor Madge, she was completely elated with personal 
vanity, and the most perfect satisfaction concerning her own 
dazzling dress, and superior appearance. They entered the 
hamlet without being observed, except by one old woman, who, 
being nearly '' high-gravel blind," was only conscious that some- 
thing very fine and glittering was passing by, and dropped as 
deep a reverence to Madge as she would have done to a Countess. 
This filled up the measure of Madge's self-approbation. She 
minced, she ambled, she smiled, she simpered, and waved Jeanie 
Deans forward with the condescension of a noble chaperone, who 
has undertaken the charge of a country miss on her first journey 
to the capital. 

When at length they approached the church, and Jeanie 
saw Madge about to enter, she would have resisted — ^but the 
maniac took hold of her, and conceiving that she might receive 
13 



98 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

bodily hurt before sbe could obtain the assistance of any one, 
sbe tliougbt it wise to follow quietly. No sooner bad Madge 
put her foot upon tbe pavement, and become sensible that she 
was the object of attention to the spectators, than she resumed 
all her fantastic extravagance of deportment. She swam rather 
than walked up the centre isle, dragging Jeanie after her. 
Madge's airs were at length fortunately cut short by her en- 
countering the look of the clergyman. She hastily opened a 
pew near her, and entered, dragging Jeanie in. Kicking Jeanie 
on the shins, by way of hint that she should follow her example, 
she sunk her head upon her hand. 



LUCY ASHTON. 

Lucy Ashton's exquisitely beautiful, yet somewliat girlish 
features, were formed to express peace of mind, serenity, and 
indifference to the tinsel of worldly pleasure. Her locks, which 
were of shadowy gold, divided on a brow of exquisite whiteness, 
like a gleam of broken and pallid sunshine upon a hill of snow. 
The expression of the countenance was in the last degree gentle, 
soft, timid, and feminine, and seemed rather to shrink from the 
most casual look of a stranger, than to court his admiration. 
Something there was of a Madonna cast, perhaps the result of 
delicate health, and of residence in a family where the disposi- 
tions of the inmates were fiercer, more active, and energetic, 
than her own. 

Yet her passiveness of disposition was by no means owing to 
an indifferent or unfeeling mind. Left to the impulse of her 
own taste and feelings, Lucy Ashton was peculiarly accessible to 
those of a romantic cast. Her secret delight was in the old le- 
gendary tales of ardent devotion and unalterable affection, che- 
quered as they so often are with strange adventures and super- 
natural horrors. This was her favored fairy realm, and here she 
erected her aerial palaces. But it was only in secret that she 



XOO THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

labored at this delusive, thougli delightful architecture. In hei 
retired chamber, or in the woodland bower which she had cho- 
sen for her own, and called after her name, she was in fancy 
distributing the prizes at the tournament, or raining down influ- 
ence from her eyes on the valiant combatants ; or she was wan- 
dering in the wilderness with Una, under escort of the generous 
lion ; or she was identifying herself with the simple, yet noble- 
minded Miranda, in the isle of wonder and enchantment. 

She sat upon one of the disjointed stones of the ancient 
fountain, and seemed to watch the progress of its current, as it 
bubbled forth to dayhght, in gay and sparkling profusion, from 
under the shadow of the ribbed and darksome vault, with which 
veneration, or perhaps remorse, had canopied its som'ce. To a 
superstitious eye, Lucy Ashton, folded in her plaided mantle, 
mth her long hair partly escaping from the snood and falhng 
upon her silver neck, might have suggested the idea of the mur- 
dered Nymph of the Fountain. But Ravenswood only saw a 
female exquisitely beautiful, and rendered yet more so in his 
eyes — ^how could it be otherwise — ^by the consciousness that she 
had placed her affections on him. As he gazed on her, he felt 
his fixed resolution melting like wax in the sun, and hastened, 
therefore, from his concealment in the neighboring thicket. She 
saluted him, but did not arise from the stone on which she was 
seated. 

" My mad-cap brother," she said, " has left me, but I expect 
him back in a few minutes — for fortunately, as any thing pleases 
him for a moment, nothing has charms for him much longer/' 

Ravens wood did not feel the power of informing Lucy that 
her brother meditated a distant excursion, and would not return 
in haste. He sat himself clown on the grass, at some httle dis- 
tance from Miss Ashton, and both were silent for a short space. 



LUCY ASHTOK IQl 

" I like this spot/' said Lucy at length, as if she had found 
the silence embarrassing ; "the bubbhng murmur of the clear 
fountain, the waving of the trees, the profusion of grass and 
wild-flowers, that rise among the ruins, make it like a scene in 
romance. I think, too, I have heard it is a spot connected 
with the legendary lore which I love so well." 

" It has been thought," answered Ravenswood, " a fatal spot 
to my family ; and I have some reason to term it so, for it was 
here I first saw Miss Ashton — ^and it is here I must take my 
leave of her for ever." 

The blood, which the first part of this speech called into 
Lucy's cheeks, was speedily expelled by its conclusion. 

" To take leave of us. Master ? " she exclaimed ; " what can 
have happened to hurry you away ? — I know Alice hates — I 
mean dislikes my father — and I hardly understood her humor 
to-day, it was so mysterious. But I am certain my father is 
sincerely grateful for the high service you rendered us. Let me 
hope, that having won your friendship hardly, we shall not lose 
it Hghtly." 

" Lose it, Miss Ashton?" said the Master of Ravenswood. 
" No — wherever my fortune calls me — ^whatever she inflicts upon 
me — it is your friend — your sincere friend, who acts or sufi'ers. 
But there is a fate on me, and I must go, or I shall add the 
ruin of others to my own." 

Lucy covered her face with her hands, and the tears, in 
spite of her, forced then- way between her fingers. " Porgive 
me," said Ravenswood, taking her right hand, which, after 
slight resistance, she yielded to him, still continuing to shade 
her face with the left — " I am too rude — too rough — too intrac- 
table to deal with any being so soft and gentle as you are. For- 
get that so stern a vision has crossed your path of life — and let 



102 TKE wa'\t:PvLET gallery. 

me piu'siie mine, sm^e that I can meet witli uo worse misfortune 
after the moment it divides me from yom: side." 

Lucy wept on, but her tears were less bitter. Each attempt 
which the Master made to explain his purpose of departure, 
only proved a new endence of his desii'e to stay ; until, at 
length, instead of bidding her farewell, he gave his faith to her 
for ever, and received her troth in return. The whole passed so 
suddenly, and arose so much out of the immediate impulse of the 
moment, that ere the Master of Ravenswood could reflect upon 
the consequences of the step which he had taken, their hps, as 
well as their hands, had pledged the sincerity of their affection. 

" Lucy," he said, " I have sacrificed to you projects of ven- 
geance long nursed, and sworn to with ceremonies Httle better 
than heathen — I sacrificed them to tout imao;e, ere I knew the 
worth which it represented. In the evening which succeeded 
my poor father's funeral, I cut a lock from my hair, and, as it 
consumed in the fire, I swore that mv rasre and revensre should 
pursue his enemies, until they shrivelled before me like that 
scorched-up s}*mbol of annihilation." 

'' It was a deadly sin," said Lucy, turning pale, " to make a 
vow so fatal." 

'' I acknowledge it," said Ravenswood, " and it had been a 
worse crime to keep it. It was for yom^ sake that I abjured 
these pm'poses of revenge, though I scarce knew that such was 
the argument by which I was conquered, until I saw you once 
more, and became conscious of the influence you possessed 
over me." 

" And why do you now," said Lucy, " recall sentiments so 
terrible — sentiments so inconsistent with those you profess for 
me — with those yom' importunity has prevailed on me to ac- 
knowledge." 



LUCY ASHTOK 103 

" Because/' said her lover, " I would impress on you the 
price at which I have bought your love — the right I have to ex- 
pect your constancy. I say not that I have bartered for it the 
honor of my house, its last remaining possession — ^but though I 
say it not, and think it not, I cannot conceal from myself that 
the world may do both." 

" If such are your sentiments," said Lucy, " you have played 
a cruel game with me. But it is not too late to give it over — 
take back the faith and troth which you could not plight to me 
without suffering abatement of honor — ^let what is passed be as 
if it had not been — forget me — I will endeavor to forget my- 
self." 

" You do me injustice," said the Master of Bavenswood ; 
" by all I hold true and honorable, you do me the extremity of 
injustice — if I mentioned the price at which I have bought your 
love, it is only to show how much I prize it, to bind our engage- 
ment by a stiU firmer tie, and to show, by what I have done to 
attain this station in your regard, how much I must suffer should 
you ever break your faith/' 

" And why, Bavenswood," answered Lucy, " should you 
think that possible ? — Why should you urge me with even the 
mention of infidelity ? — Is it because I ask you to delay apply- 
ing to my father for a little space of time ? Bind me by what 
vows you please; if vows are unnecessary to secure constancy, 
they may yet prevent suspicion." 

Bavenswood pleaded, apologized, and even kneeled, to ap- 
pease her displeasure ; and Lucy, as placable as she was single- 
hearted,, readily forgave the offence which his doubts had im- 
plied. The dispute thus agitated, however, ended by the lovers 
going through an emphatic ceremony of their troth-plight, of 
which the vulgar still preserve some traces. They broke be- 



104 THE WAVERLEY GALLERY. 

twixt them tlie thin broad piece of gold which Ahce had refused 
to receive from Ravenswood. 

" And never shall this leave my bosom," said Lncy, as she 
hung the piece of gold round her neck, and concealed it with 
her handkerchief, " until you, Edgar Ravenswood, ask me to re- 
sign it to you — and, while I wear it, never shall that heart ac- 
knowledge another love than yours." 

With like protestations, Ravenswood placed his portion of 
the coin opposite to his heart. And now, at length, it struck 
them, that time had hurried fast on during this interview, and 
their absence at the castle would be subject of remark, if not of 
alarm. As they arose to leave the fountaiu which had been 
witness of their mutual engagement, an arrow wliistled through 
the air, and struck a raven perched on the sere branch of an 
old oak, near to where they had been seated. The bird flut- 
tered a few yards, and dropped at the feet of Lucy, whose dress 
was stained with some spots of its blood. 



LADY ROWENA. 

The bustling Prior of Jorvaidx had reminded Prince John, 
in a whisper, that the victor must now display his good judg- 
ment, instead of his valor, by selecting from among the beauties 
who graced the galleries, a lady, who should fill the throne of 
the Queen of Beauty and of Love, and deliver the price of the 
tourney upon the ensuing day. The Prince accordingly made 
a sign with his truncheon, as the Knight passed him in his 
second career around the lists. The Knight turned towards the 
throne, and sinking his lance, until the point was within a foot 
of the ground, remained motionless, as if expecting John's com- 
mands ; while all admired the sudden dexterity with which he 
instantly reduced his fiery steed from a state of violent emotion 
and high excitation to the stillness of an equestrian statue. 

'' Sir Disinherited Knight," said Prince John, " since that is 
the only title by which we can address you, it is now your duty, 
as well as privilege, to name the fair lady, who, as Queen of 
Honor and of Love, is to preside over next day's festival. If, 
as a stranger in our land, you should require the aid of other 
judgment to guide your own, we can only say that Alicia, the 
14 



106 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

daughter of our gallant knight Waldemar Pitzurse, has at out 
court long been held the first in beauty as in place. Neverthe- 
less, it is your undoubted prerogative to confer on whom you 
please this crown, by the delivery of which to the lady of your 
choice, the election of to-morrow's Queen will be formal and 
complete. Raise your lance." 

The knight obeyed ; and Prince John placed upon its point 
a coronet of green satin, having around its edge a circlet of gold, 
the upper edge of which was relieved by arrow-points and hearts 
placed interchangeably, like the strawberry leaves and balls upon 
a ducal crown. 

The Disinherited Knight passed the gallery close to that of 
the Prince, in which the Lady Alicia was seated in the full pride 
of triumphant beauty, and, pacing forwards as slowly as he had 
hitherto rode swiftly around the lists, he seemed to exercise his 
right of examining the numerous fair faces which adorned that 
splendid circle. 

It was worth while to see the different conduct of the beau- 
ties who underwent this examination, during the time it was 
proceeding. Some blushed, some assumed an air of pride and 
dignity, some looked straight forward, and essayed to seem ut- 
terly unconscious of what was going on, some drew back in 
alarm, which was perhaps affected, some endeavored to forbear 
smihng, and there were two or three who laughed outright. 
There were also some who dropped their veils over thek charms ; 
but as the Wardour Manuscript says these w^ere fair ones of ten 
years standing, it may be supposed that, having had their full 
share of such vanities, they were willing to withdraw their 
claim in order to give a fair chance to the rising beauties of the 



age. 



At length the champion paused beneath the balcony in which 



LADY PvOWENA. ]^07 

tlie Lady Rowena was placed, and the expectation of the spec- 
tators was excited to the utmost. 

Ponned in the best proportions of her sex, Rowena was tall 
in stature, yet not so much so as to attract observation on ac- 
count of superior height. Her complexion was exquisitely fair, 
but the noble cast of her head and features prevented the in- 
sipidity which sometimes attaches to fair beauties. Her clear 
blue eye, which sat enshrined beneath a graceful eyebrow of 
brown, sufficiently marked to give expression to the forehead, 
seemed capable to kindle as well as melt, to command as well as 
to beseech. If mildness were the more natural expression of 
such a combination of featm^es, it was plain, that in the present 
instance, the exercise of habitual superiority, and the reception 
of general homage, had given to the Saxon lady a loftier charac- 
ter, which mingled with and qualified that bestowed by nature. 
Her profuse hair, of a color betwixt brown and flaxen, was ar- 
ranged in a fanciful and graceful manner in numerous ringlets, 
to form which, art had probably aided nature. These locks 
were braided with gems, and being worn at full length, inti- 
mated the noble birth and free-born condition of the maiden. A 
golden chain, to which was attached a small reliquary of the 
same metal, hung round her neck. She wore bracelets on her 
arms, which were bare. Her dress was an under-gown and kir- 
tle of pale sea-green silk, over which hung a' long loose robe, 
which reached to the ground, having very wide sleeves, which 
came down, however, very little below the elbow. This robe 
was crimson, and manufactured out of the very finest wool. A 
veil of silk, interwoven with gold, was attached to the ui)pcr 
part of it, which could be, at the wearer's pleasure, either drawn 
over the face and bosom, after the Spanish fashion, or disposed 
as a sort of drapery round the shoulders. 



108 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

Whetlier from indecision or some other motive of hesitation, 
the champion of the day remained stationary for more than a 
minute, while the eyes of the silent audience were riveted upon 
his motions ; and then, gradually and gracefully sinking the 
point of his lance, he deposited the coronet which it supported 
at the feet of the fair Kowena. The trumpets instantly sounded, 
while the heralds proclaimed the Lady Rowena the Queen of 
Beauty and of Love for the ensuing day, menacing with suitable 
penalties those who should be disobedient to her authority. 
They then repeated their cry of Largesse, to which Cedric, in 
the height of his joy, replied by an ample donative, and to 
which Athelstane, though less promptly, added one equally 
large. 

There was some murmuring among the damsels of Norman 
descent, who were as much unused to see the preference given 
to a Saxon beauty, as the Norman nobles were to sustain defeat 
in the games of chivalry which they themselves had introduced. 
But these sounds of disaffection were drowned by the popular 
shout of " Long hve the Lady Kowena, the chosen and lawful 
Queen of Love and Beauty ! " To which many in the lower 
area added, " Long live the Saxon Princess ! long live the race 
of the immortal Alfred ! " 

However unacceptable these sounds might be to Prince 
John, and to those around him, he saw himself nevertheless 
obhged to confirm the nomination of the victor, and accordingly 
calling to horse, he left his throne, and mounting his jennet, ac- 
companied by his train, he again entered the lists. The Prince 
paused a moment beneath the gallery of the Lady Alicia, to 
whom he paid his compliments, observing at the same time, to 
those around him — " By my hahdome, sirs ! if the Knight's 
feats in arms have shown that he hath limbs and sinews, his 



LADY KOWENA. j^qq 

choice hath no less proved that his eyes are none of the 
clearest." 

It was on this occasion, as during his whole life, John's mis- 
fortune, not perfectly to understand the characters of those whom 
he wished to conciliate. Waldemar Pitzurse was rather offended 
than pleased at the Prince stating thus broadly an opinion, that 
his daughter had been shghted. 

" I know no right of chivalry,'' he said, " more precious or 
inalienable than that of each free knight to choose his lady-love 
by his own judgment. My daughter courts distinction from no 
one ; and in her own character, and in her own sphere, will 
never fail to receive the full proportion of that which is her 
due." 

Prince John replied not ; but, spurring his horse, as if to 
give vent to his vexation, he made the animal bound forward to 
the gallery where Powena was seated, with the crown still at 
her feet. 

'' Assume," he said, " fair lady, the mark of your sovereign- 
ty, to which none vows homage more sincerely than ourself, John 
of Anjou ; and if it please you to-day, with your noble sire and 
friends, to grace our banquet in the Castle of Ashby, we shall 
learn to know the empress to whose service we devote to-mor- 
row." 

Powena remained silent, and Cedric answered for her in his 
native Saxon. 

" The Lady Powena," he said, " possesses not the language 
in which to reply to your courtesy, or to sustain her part in yom' 
festival. I also, and the noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh, 
speak only the language and practise only the manners of our 
fathers. We therefore decline with thanks your Highnesses 
courteous invitation to the banquet. To-morrow the Lady Po- 



IIQ THE WAVERLEY GALLERY. 

wena will take upon her the state to which she has been called 
by the free election of the victor Knight, confirmed by the accla- 
mations of the people." 

So saying, he lifted the coronet, and placed it upon Rowe- 
na's head, in token of her acceptance of the temporary authority 
assigned to her. 




WATZTiZJl' SAJ^ J -■■■'. 



REBECCA. 

The figure of Rebecca might have compared with the proud- 
est beauties of England. Her form was exquisitely symmetri- 
cal, and was shown to advantage by a sort of Eastern dress, 
which was worn according to the fashion of the females of her 
nation. Her turban of yellow silk suited well with the dark- 
ness of her complexion. The brilliancy of her eyes, the superb 
arch of her eyebrows, her well-formed aquiline nose, her teeth 
as white as pearl, and the profusion of her sable tresses, which, 
each arranged in its own little spiral of twisted curls, fell down 
upon as much of a lovely neck and bosom as a simarre of the 
richest Persian silk, exhibiting flowers in their natural colors 
embossed upon a purple ground, permitted to be visible — all 
these constituted a combination of loveliness, which yielded not 
to the most beautiful of the maidens who surrounded her. It 
is true, that of the golden and pearl-studded clasps, which closed 
her vest from the throat to the waist, the three uppermost were 
left unfastened on account of the heat, which something enlarged 
the prospect to which we allude. A diamond necklace, with 
pendants of inestimable value, were by this means also made 
more conspicuous. The feather of an ostrich, fastened in her 



212 THE WAVEELEY GALLEEY. 

tiirban by an agraffe set with brilliants, was another distinctior 
of the beautiful Jewess, scoffed and sneered at by proud dames, 
but secretly emied by those who affected to deride them. 

This beauty was now to expect a fate even more dreadful 
than that of Rowena; for what probabihty was there that 
either softness or ceremony would be used towards one of her 
oppressed race, whatever shadow of these might be preserved to- 
wards a Saxon heiress ? Yet had the Jewess this advantage, 
that she was better prepared by habits of thought, and by 
natural strength of mind, to encounter the dangers to which she 
was exposed. Of a strong and obseniag character, even from 
her earhest years, the pomp and wealth which her father dis- 
played within his walls, or which she witnessed in the houses of 
other wealthy Hebrews, had not been able to bhnd her to the 
precarious circumstances under which they were enjoyed. Like 
Damocles at his celebrated banquet, Rebecca perpetually beheld, 
amid that gorgeous display, the sword which was suspended 
over the heads of her people by a single hair. These reffections 
had tamed and brought down to a pitch of sounder judgment 
a temper, which, under other circumstances, might have waxed 
haughty, supercHious, and obstinate. 

Her first care was to inspect the apartment ; but it afforded 
few hopes either of escape or protection. It contained neither 
secret passage nor trap- door, and unless where the door by 
which she had entered joined the maia building, seemed to be 
circumscribed by the round exterior wall of the tmTet. The 
door had no inside bolt or bar. The single window opened 
upon an embattled space surmounting the turret, which gave 
Rebecca, at first sight, some hopes of escaping; but she soon 
found it had no commimication with any other part of the bat- 
tlements, being an isolated bartisan, or balconv, secured, as 



EEBECCA. 113 

usual, by a parapet, with embrasures, at whicb a few arcliers 
might be stationed for defending the turret, and flanking with 
their shot the wall of the castle on that side. 

The prisoner trembled, however, and changed color, when a 
step was heard on the stair, and the door of the turret-cham- 
ber slowly opened, and a tall man, dressed as one of those ban- 
ditti to whom they owed their misfortune, slowly entered, and 
shut the door behind him; his cap, pulled down upon his 
brows, concealed the upper part of his face, and he held his 
mantle in such a manner as to muffle the rest. In this guise, 
as if prepared for the execution ^of some deed, at the thought of 
which he was himself ashamed, he stood before the affrighted 
prisoner ; yet, ruffian as his dress bespoke him, he seemed at a 
loss to express what purpose had brought him thither, so that Re- 
becca, making an effort upon herself, had time to anticipate his 
explanation. She had already unclasped two costly bracelets 
and a collar, which she hastened to proffer to the supposed out- 
law, concluding naturally that to gratify his avarice was to be- 
speak his favor. 

" Take these," she said, " good friend, and for God's sake 
be merciful to me and my aged father ! These ornaments are 
of value, yet are they trifling to what he would bestow to ob- 
tain our dismissal from this castle, free and uninjured." 

"Pair flower of Palestine," replied the outlaw, "these 
pearls are orient, but they yield in whiteness to your teeth ; the 
diamonds are brilliant, but they cannot match your eyes ; and 
ever since I have taken up this wild trade, I have made a vow 
to prefer beauty to wealth." 

" Do not do yourself such wrong," said Kebecca ; " take 
ransom, and have mercy ! — Gold will purchase you pleasure, — 
to misuse us, could only bring thee remorse. 
15 



214 THE WAVEKLEY GALLERY. 

"It is well spoken/' replied the outlaw in Prencli/ finding 
it difficult probably to sustain, in Saxon, a conversation wbicli Re- 
becca had opened in that language ; " but know, bright lily of the 
vale of Baca ! that thy father is already in the hands of a powerful 
alchemist, who knows how to convert into gold and silver even 
the rusty bars of a dungeon grate. Thy ransom must be paid 
by love and beauty, and in no other coin will I accept it." 

" Thou art no outlaw," said Rebecca, in the same language 
in which he addressed her ; " no outlaw had refused such offers. 
No outlaw in this land uses the dialect in which thou hast spok- 
en. Thou art no outlaw, but a Norman — a Norman, noble 
perhaps in birth — Oh, be so in thy actions, and cast off this 
fearful mask of outrage and violence ! " 

The eyes of the Templar flashed fire — " Hearken," he said, 
"Rebecca; I have hitherto spoken mildly to thee, but now my 
language shall be that of a conqueror. Thou art the captive of 
my bow and spear — subject to my will by the laws of all na- 
tions ; nor will I abate an inch of my right, or abstain from 
taking by violence what thou refusest to entreaty or necessity." 

" Stand back," said Rebecca — " stand back, and hear me 
ere thou ofFerest to commit a sin so deadly ! My strength thou 
mayest indeed overpower, for God made woman weak, and 
trusted their defence to man's generosity. But I will proclaim 
thy villany. Templar, from one end of Europe to the other. I 
will owe to the superstition of thy brethren what their compas- 
sion might refuse me. Each Preceptory — each Chapter of thy 
Order, shall learn, that, like a heretic, thou hast sinned with a 
Jewess. Those who tremble not at thy crime, will hold thee ac- 
cursed for having so far dishonored the cross thou wearest, as 
to follow a daughter of my people." 

" Thou art keen-witted, Jewess," rephed the Templar, well 



REBECCA. 1X5 

aware of the truth of what she spoke, and that by the rules of 
his Order, upon such intrigues as he now prosecuted degrada- 
tion followed ; " but loud must be thy voice of complaint, 
if it is heard beyond the iron walls of this castle. Submit to 
thy fate — embrace our religion, and thou shalt go forth in such 
state, that many a Norman lady shall yield as well in pomp as 
in beauty to the favorite of the best lance among the defenders 
of the Temple." 

" Submit to my fate ! " said Rebecca — '' and, sacred Heaven ! 
to what fate ? — embrace thy religion ! and what rehgion can it 
be that harbors such a villain ? — t/ioi6 the best lance of the Tem- 
plars ! — Craven knight ! — forsworn priest ! I spit at thee, and 
I defy thee. — The God of Abraham's promise hath opened an 
escape to his daughter — even from this abyss of infamy ! " 

As she spoke, she threw open the lattice windovf which led 
to the bartisan, and in an instant after, stood on the very verge 
of the parapet, with not the slightest screen between her and 
the tremendous depth below. Unprepared for such a desper- 
ate effort, for she had hitherto stood perfectly motionless, 
Bois-Guilbert had neither time to intercept nor to stop her. 
As he offered to advance, she exclaimed, " Remain where thou 
art, proud Templar, or at thy choice advance ! — one foot near- 
er, and I plunge myself from the precipice ; my body shall be 
crushed out of the very form of humanity upon the stones of 
that court-yard, ere it become the victim of thy brutality ! " 

The Templar hesitated, and a resolution which had never 
yielded to pity or distress, gave way to his admiration of her 
fortitude. " Come down," he said, " rash girl ! I swear by 
earth, and sea, and sky, I will offer thee no offence." 

" I will not trust thee, Templar," said Rebecca. 

" May my arms be reversed, and my name dishonored," said 



]^2t; ^^^ ^-f^VZLlZY GALLERY. 

Brian de Bois-Guilbert, " if tliou slialt have reason to complain 
of me 1 ]MaBy a law, manv a commandment have I broken, bnt 
my word, never/' 

'•' I will then trust thee," said Rebecca, " thus for ; " and she 
descended firom the verge of the battlement, but remained stand- 
ing close by one of the en : = ilt^ :: jcldcoUes, as they were 
then called. "Here," she said, 'I take my stand. Remain 
where thou art, and if thon shalt attempt to diminish by one 
step the distance now between us, thou shalt see that the Jew- 
ish maiden will rather trust her soul with God, than her honor 
to the Templar 1 " 

TThile Rebecca spoke thus, her high and firm resolve, which 
corresponded so well with the expressive beauty of her counte- 
nance, gave to her looks, air, and manner, a dignity that seemed 
more than mortal. Her glance qnailed not, her cheek blanched 
not, for the fear of a fate so instant ,and so horrible ; on the con- 
traiy, the thought that she had her fete at her command, and 
could escape at will from infiuny to death, gave a yet deeper 
color of carnation to her completion, and a yet more brilliant 
fire to her eye. Bois-Gmlbert, proud himself and high-spirited, 
thousrht he had never beheld beantv so animated and so com- 



mandinsf. 



" Let there be peace between us, Rebecca," he said. 

''Peace, if thon wilt," answered Rebecca — ''peace — bnt 
with this space between." 

" Thou needst no longer fear me," said Bois-Guilbert. 

'• I fear thee not," replied she ; " thanks to him that reared 
this dizzv tower so hisch, that naufirht could fall from it and live 
— ^thanks to him, and to the God of Israel ! — ^I fear thee not ! " 




V.r.lVF.I'JJ^'.Y n.UJJ^K 



THE WHITE LADY OF AYENEL. 

Halbert, liis head unbonnetecl, Ms features swelled 'A^itli 
jealous anger, and tlie tear still in liis eye, sped up tlie wild and 
upper extremity of tlie little valley of Glendearg witli tlie speed 
of a roebuck, choosing, as if in desperate defiance of the difficul- 
ties of the way, the wildest and most dangerous paths, and vol- 
untarily exposing himself a hundred times to dangers which he 
might have escaped by turning a little aside from them. It 
seemed as if he wished his course to be as straight as that of 
the arrow to its mark. 

He arrived at length in a narrow and secluded clench, or 
deep ravine, which ran down into the valley, and contributed a 
scanty rivulet to the supply of the brook with which Glendearg 
is watered. Up this he sped with the same precipitate haste 
which had marked his departure from the tower ; nor did he 
pause and look round until he had reached the fountain from 
which the rivulet had its rise. 

Here Halbert stopped short, and cast a gloomy and almost 
a frightened glance around him. A huge rock rose in front, 
from a cleft of which grew a wild holly tree, whose dark green 
branches rustled over the spring which arose beneath. The 



118 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

banks ou either liaud rose so liigli, and approaclied eacli otlier 
so closely, that it was only when the sun was at its meridian 
height, and during the summer solstice, that its rays could reacli 
the bottom of the cliasm in whicli lie stood. Bat it was now 
summer, and the liour was noon, so that the unwonted reflec- 
tion of tlie sun was dancing in the pellucid fountain. 

" Already liave I endui'ed the vision," said Halbert to him- 
self, '• and why not again ? What can it do to me, who am a 
man of Htli and limb, and have by my side my father's sword? 
Does my heart beat — do my haii^s bristle, at the thought of 
calling up a painted shadow, and how sbould I face a band of 
Southrons in flesh and blood ? By the soul of the first Glen- 
dinning, I will make proof of the charm I " 

He cast the leathern brogue or buskin fi'oni his right foot, 
planted himself in a firm posture, unsheathed his sword, and 
first looking around to coUect his resolution, he bowed three 
times deliberately towards the holly tree, and as often to the 
little fountam, repeating at the same time, with a determined 
voice, the foUowino- rhMne : 

" Thrice to the liolly brake — 
Thrice to the well : — 
I bid thee awake, 

AYhite maid of Avenel ! 

•'• Xoon gleams on the Lake — 
Xoon glows on the Fell — 
"VTake thee, wake, 

TYhite maid of Avenel ! " 

These fines were hardly uttered, when there stood the figure 
of a female clothed in white, within three steps of Halbert Glen- 
dinning. 



THE WHITE LADY OF AVEIsTEL. ^g 

*' I guess, 'twas friglitful there to see 
A lady richly clad as she — 
Beautiful exceedingly." 

" There's something in that ancient superstition. 
Which, erring as it is, our fancy loves. 
The spring that, with its thousand crystal bubbles, 
Bursts from the bosom of some desert rock 
In secret solitude, may well be deem'd 
The haunt of something purer, more refined. 
And mightier than ourselves." 

His terror for the moment overcame his natural com^age, as 
well as the strong resolution which he had formed, that the 
figure which he had now twice seen should not a third time 
daunt him. But it would seem there is something thrilling and 
abhorrent to flesh and blood, in the consciousness that we stand 
in presence of a being in form like to ourselves, but so different 
in faculties and nature, that we can neither understand its pur- 
poses nor calculate its means of pursuing them. 

Halbert stood silent, and gasped for breath, his hairs erect- 
ing themselves on his head — his mouth open — his eyes fixed, 
and, as the sole remaining sign of his late determined purpose, 
his sword pointed towards the apparition. At length, with a 
voice of ineffable sweetness, the White Lady, for by that name 
we shall distinguish this being, sung, or rather chanted, the fol- 
lowing lines : 

" Youth of the dark eye, wherefore didst thou call me? 
Wherefore art thou here, if terrors can appall thee ? 
He that seeks to deal with us must know nor fear nor failing ! 
To coward and churl our speech is dark, our gifts are unavailing. 
The breeze that brought me hither now must sweep Egyptian ground, 
The fleecy cloud on which I ride for Araby is bound ; 



-[20 THE WAYEELEY GALLEEY. 

Tlie fleecy cloud is cliifting by, tlie breeze siglis for my stay, 
For I must sail a thousand miles before the close of day." 

The astoniskQient of Halbert began once more to give way 
to liis resolution, and lie gained voice enough to say, thougli 
with a faltering accent, " In tlie name of God, what art thou? " 
The answer was in melody of a different tone and measure : 

" What I am I must not show — 
What I am thou couldst not know — 
Something betwixt heaven and hell — 
Something that neither stood nor fell — 
Something that through thy wit or will 
May work thee good^may work thee ill. 
Neither substance quite, nor shadow. 
Haunting lonely moor and meadow, 
Dancing by the haunted spring, 
Eiding on the whirlwind's wing ; 
Aping in fantastic fashion 
Every change of human passion. 
While o'er our frozen minds they pass. 
Like shadows from the mirror' d glass. 
Wayward, fickle is our mood, 
Hovering betwixt bad and good. 
Happier than brief-dated man. 
Living twenty times his span ; 
Far less happy, for we have 
Help nor hope beyond the grave ! 
Man awakes to joy or sorrow ; 
Ours the sleep that knows no morrow. 
This is all that I can show — 
This is all that thou mayst know." 

The T\liite Lady paused, and appeared to await an answer ; 
but as Halbert hesitated how to frame his speech, the vision 



THE WHITE LADY OF AYENEL. 121 

seemed gradually to fade, and become more and more incorpo- 
real. Justly guessing this to be a symptom of her disappear- 
ance, Halbert compelled himself to say, " Lady, when I saw you 
in the glen, and when you brought back the black book of Mary 
of Avenel, thou didst say I should one day learn to read it." 
The White Lady replied ; 

/" Ay ! and I taught thee the word and the spell, 
' To waken me here by the Fairies' Well. 
But thou hast loved the heron and hawk 
More than to seek my haunted walk ; 
And thou hast loved the lance and the sword 
More than good text and holy word ; 
And thou hast loved the deer to track, 
More than the lines and the letters black ; 
And thou art a ranger of moss and of wood, 
And scornest the nurture of gentle blood." 

" I will do so no longer, fair maiden," said Halbert ; " I de- 
sire to leaxn ; and thou didst promise me, that when I did so 
desire, thou wouldst be my helper ; I am no longer afraid of thy 
presence, and I am no longer regardless of instruction." As he 
uttered these words, the figure of the White Maiden grew grad- 
ually as distinct as it had been at first ; and what had well-nigh 
faded into an iU-defined and colorless shadow, again assumed an 
appearance at least of corporeal consistency, although the hues 
were less vivid, and the outline of the figure less distinct and 
defined — so at least it seemed to Halbert — than those of an or- 
dinary inhabitant of the earth. " Wilt thou grant my request," 
he said, " fair lady, and give to my keeping the holy book which 
Mary of Avenel has so often wept for ? " 

The White Lady replied : 
16 



122 THE TTAYERLEY GALLERY. 

" Thy craven fear my truth accused, 
Thme idlehood my trust abused ; 
He that draws to harbor late, 
Must sleep without, or burst the gate. 
There is a star for thee, which burn'd, 
Its influence wanes, its course is turn'd ; 
Yalor and constancy alone 
Can brino^ thee back the chance that's flown." 



" If I have been a loiterer, Lady,'' answered young Glendin- 
ning, "thou slialt novr find me willing to press forward with 
double speed. Other thoughts have filled my mind, other 
thoughts have engaged my heart, within a brief period — and by 
Heaven, other occupations shall henceforward fill up my time. 
I have Hved in this day the space of years — I came hither a boy 
— I will retm-n a man- — a man, such as may converse not only 
with his own kind, but Tvith whatever God permits to be visible 
to him. I win learn the contents of that mysterious volume — I 
vn\l learn why the Lady of Avenel loved it — ^why the priests 
feared, and would have stolen it — why thou didst twice recover 
it from their hands. What mystery is wrapt in it ? Speak, I 
conjure thee ! " The Lady assumed an air peculiarly sad and 
solemn, as, drooping her head, and folding her arms on her bo- 
som, she rephed : 

"Within that awful volume lies 
The mystery of mysteries ! 
Happiest they of human race, 
To whom God has granted grace 
To read, to fear, to hope, to pray, 
To lift the latch, and force the way ; 
And better had they ne'er been born, 
Who read to doubt, or read to scorn. 



THE WHITE LADY OF AYENEL. 123 

" Give me the volume, Lady," said young Glendinning. 
" They call me idle — they call me dull — ^in this pursuit my in- 
dustry shall not fail, nor, with God's blessing, shall my un- 
derstanding. Give me the volume." The apparition again 
replied : 

" Many a fathom dark and deep 
I have laid the book to sleep ; 
Ethereal fires around it glowing — 
Ethereal music ever flowing — ■ 

The sacred pledge of Heav'n 
All things revere, 
Each in his sphere, 

Save man, for whom 'twas giv'n : 
Lend thy hand, and thou shalt spy 
Things ne'er seen by mortal eye." 

Halbert Glendinning boldly reached his hand to the White 
Lady. 

" Nearest thou to go with me ? " she said, as his hand trem- 
bled at the soft and cold touch of her own — 

" Fearest thou to go with me ? 
Still it is free to thee 

A peasant to dwell ; 
Thou mayst drive the dull steer, 
And chase the king's deer, 
But never more come near 

This haunted well.'* 

" If what thou sayest be true," said the undaunted boy, 
" my destinies are higher than thine own. There shall be 
neither well nor wood which I dare not visit. No fear of aught, 
natural or supernatural, shall bar my path through my native 
valley." 



He had scarce unered the words, when they both descended 
throngh the earth with a rapidLtr which took awav Halbert's 
breath and every other sensation, saYing that of beiag hnmed 
on with the utmost velocity. At length they stopped with a 
shock so sudden, that the mortal ioiimever through that un- 
known space must have bed. zizi-^i I r^rn with violence, had 
he not been upheld by his supemar:^:- : dpaoion. 

I: ^as more than a minute, ere, looking around him, he be- 
held a grotto, or natural cavern, composed of the nis: splendid 
spars and crystals, which returned in a thousand prismatic hues 
the light of a btiUiant flame that glowed on an altar of alabaster. 
This altar with its fire, formed the central point of the grotto, 
which was of a round form, and very high in the r: :t^ resem- 
bliog in some respects the dome of a cathedral. C :: : i : :: iing 
to the four points of the compass, there went on :: : Izg gal- 
leries, or arcades, constructed of the same biiDiant materials 
with the dome itself and the termination of which was lost in 
darkness. 

Xo human imagination can conceive, or words suffice to de- 
scribe, the glorious radiance, which, shot fiercely forth by the 
flame, was returned firom so many hundred thousand points of 
reflection, afforded by the sparry piflars and their numerous 
angular crystals. The ^re itself did not remain steady and un- 
moved, but rose ani tH, siaetimes ascending in a brifliant 
pyramid of condensed flame half way up the lofty expanse, and 
again fading into a softer and more rosy hue, and hovering, as 
it were, on the surface of the altar, to collect its strength for 
another poweifal exertion. There was no visible fael by which 
it was fed, nor did it emit either smoke or vapor of any 
kind. 

What was of all the most remarkable, the black volume so 



THE WHITE LADY OF AVENEL. 125 

often mentioned lay not only unconsumed, but untouched in the 
slightest degree, amid this intensity of fire, which, while it 
seemed to be of force sufficient to melt adamant, had no 
effect whatever on the sacred book thus subjected to its utmost 
influence. 

The White Lady, having paused long enough to let young 
Glendinning take a complete survey of what was around him, 
now said, in her usual chant, 

" Here lies the volume thou boldly hast sought ; 
Touch it and take it, — 'twill dearly be bought ! " 

Eamiliarized in some degree with marvels, and desperately 
desirous of showing the courage he had boasted, Halbert 
plunged his hand, without hesitation, into the flame, trusting to 
the rapidity of the motion, to snatch out the volume before the 
fire could greatly affect it. But he was much disappointed. 
The flame instantly caught upon his sleeve, and though he with- 
drew his hand immediately, yet his arm was so dreadfully 
scorched, that he had well-nigh screamed with pain. He sup- 
pressed the natural expression of anguish, however, and only in- 
timated the agony which he felt by a contortion and a muttered 
groan. The White Lady passed her cold hand over his arm, 
and ere she had finished the following metrical chant, his pain 
had entirely gone, and no mark of the scorching was visible : 

"Kash thy deed, 
Mortal weed 
To immortal flames applying ; 
Kasher trust 
Has thing of dust, 
On his own weak worth relying: 



126 THE WAVERLEY GALLERY 

Strip thee of sucli fences vain. 
Strip, and prove thy luck again." 

Obedient to what lie understood to be the meaning of his 
conductress, Halbert bared his arm to the shoulder, throwing 
down the remains of his sleeve, which no sooner touched the 
floor on which he stood than it collected itself together, shriv- 
elled itself up, and was T\'ithout any \isible fire reduced to light 
tinder, which a sudden breath of wind dispersed into empty 
space. The White Lady, obser^dng the surprise of the youth, 
immediately repeated — 

"Mortal warp and mortal woof 
Cannot brook this charmed roof ; 
All that mortal art hath wrought, 
In our cell returns to nought. 
The molten gold returns to clav, 
The polish'd diamond melts away ; 
All is alter' d, all is flown, 
Nought stands fast but truth alone. 
Not for that thy quest give o'er : 
Courage ! prove thy chance once more." 

Emboldened by her words, Halbeii Glendinning made a 
second effort, and, plunging his bare arm into the flame, took 
out the sacred volume without feehng either heat or incon- 
venience of any kind. Astonished, and ahnost terrified, at his 
o^n success, he beheld the flame collect itself, and shoot up 
into one long and final stream, which seemed as if it would as- 
cend to the very roof of the cavern, and then sinking as sud- 
denly, became totally extinguished. The deepest darkness 
ensued ; but Halbert had no time to consider his situation, for 
the White Lady had akeady caught his hand, and they ascended 



THE WHITE LADY OF AYEISTEL. 127 

to upper air with the same velocity with which they had sunk 
into the earth. 

They stood by the fountain in the Corri-nan-shian when 
they emerged from the bowels of the earth ; but on casting a 
bewildered glance around him, the youth was surprised to ob- 
serve, that the shadows had fallen far to the east, and that the 
day was well-nigh spent. He gazed on his conductress for ex- 
planation, but her figure began to fade before his eyes — ^her 
cheeks grew paler, her features less distinct, her form became 
shadowy, and blended itself with the mist which was ascending 
the hollow ravine. What had late the symmetry of form, and 
the delicate, yet clear hues of feminine beauty, now resembled 
the flitting and pale ghost of some maiden who had died for 
love, as it is seen, indistinctly and by moonlight, by her per- 
jured lover. 

" Stay, spirit ! " said the youth, emboldened by his success 
in the subterranean dome, " thy kindness must not leave me, 
as one encumbered with a weapon he knows not how to wield. 
Thou must teach me the art to read, and to understand, this 
volume, else what avails it me that I possess it ? " 

But the figure of the White Lady still waned before his 
eyes, until it became an outline as pale and indistinct as that 
of the moon, when the winter morning is far advanced : and 
ere she had ended the following chant, she was entirely in- 
visible : — 

" Alas ! alas ! 
Not ours the grace 
These holy characters to trace : 
Idle forms of painted air, 
Not to us is given to share 
The boon bestow'd on Adam's race : 



128 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

With patience "bide, 
Hearen will provide 
The fitting time, the fitting guide." 

The form was abeady gone, and now tlie voice itseK had 
melted away in melancholy cadence, softening, as if the Being 
who spoke had been slowly wafted from the spot where she had 
commenced her melody. 



CATHERINE SETTON. 

They entered a low room, in whicli a tMrd female was seated. 
This apartment was the first Roland had observed in the mansion 
which was furnished with movable seats, and with a wooden 
table, over which was laid a piece of tapestry. A carpet was 
spread on the floor, there was a grate in the chimney, and, in 
brief, the apartment had the air of being habitable and in- 
habited. 

But Roland's eyes found better employment than to make 
observations on the accommodations of the chamber; for this 
second female inhabitant of the mansion seemed something very 
different from any thing he had yet seen there. A this first en- 
try, she had greeted with a silent and low obeisance the two 
aged matrons, then glancing her eyes towards Roland, she ad- 
justed a veil which hung back over her shoulders, so as to bring 
it over her face ; an operation which she performed with much 
modesty, but without either affected haste or embarrassed 
timidity. 

During this manoeuvre, Roland had time to observe that the 

face was that of a girl apparently not much past sixteen, and 

that the eyes were at once soft and briUiant. To these very 
17 



130 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

favorable observations was added tlie certainty, tliat tbe fair ob- 
ject to wliom tliey referred possessed an excellent sbape, border- 
ing perhaps on embonpoint, and therefore ratlier that of a Hebe 
than of a Sylph, but beautifully formed, and shown to great ad- 
vantage by the close jacket and petticoat which she wore after 
a foreign fashion, the last not quite long enough absolutely to 
conceal a very pretty foot which rested on a bar of the table at 
which she sat; her round arms and taper fingers very busily 
employed in repairing the piece of tapestry which was spread on 
it, which exhibited several deplorable fissures, enough to de- 
mand the utmost skill of the most expert seamstress. 

It is to be remarked, that it was by stolen glances that 
Roland Graeme contrived to ascertain these interesting particu- 
lars ; and he thought he could once or twice, notwithstanding 
the texture of the veil, detect the damsel in the act of taking 
similar cognizance of his own person. The matrons in the 
mean while continued their separate conversation, eying from 
time to time the young people, in a manner which left Roland 
in no doubt that they were the subject of their conversation. 
At length he distinctly heard Magdalen Graeme say these words 
■ — '' Nay, my sister, we must give them opportunity to speak 
together, and to become acquainted ; they must be personally 
known to each other, or how shall they be able to execute what 
they are intrusted with ? " 

It seemed as if the matron, not fully satisfied with her 
friend's reasoning, continued to ofi'er some objections ; but they 
were borne down by her more dictatorial friend. 

" It must be so," she said, " my dear sister ; let us there- 
fore go forth on the balcony, to finish our conversation. — And 
do you," she added, addressing Roland and the girl, '' become 
acquainted with each other." 



OATHERIXE SEYTOX. 131 

With this she stepped up to the young woman, and raising 
her veil, discovered features which, whatever might be then- or- 
dinary complexion, were now covered with a universal blush. 

'' Remember, Catherine," she said, '' who thou art, and for 
what destined." 

The matron then retreated with Magdalen Graeme through 
one of the casements of the apartment, that opened on a large 
broad balcony, which, with its ponderous balustrade, had once 
run along the whole south front of the building which faced the 
brook, and formed a pleasant and commodious walk in the open 
air. It was now in some places deprived of the balustrade, in 
others broken and narrowed ; but, ruinous as it was, could still 
be used as a pleasant promenade. Here then walked the two 
ancient dames, busied in their private conversation; yet not so 
much so, but that Roland could observe the matrons, as their 
thin forms darkened the casement in passing or repassing be- 
fore it, dart a glance into the apartment to see how matters were 
going on there. 

Catherine was at the happy age of innocence and buoyancy 
of spirit, when, after the first moment of embarrassment was 
over, a situation of awkwardness like that in which she was sud- 
dently left to make acquaintance with a handsome youth, not 
even kno^^m to her by name, struck her, in spite of herself, in a 
ludicrous point of view. She bent her beautiful eyes upon the 
work with which she was busied, and with infinite gra\-ity sat 
out the two first turns of the matrons upon the balcony ; but 
then glancing her deep blup eye a little towards Roland, and 
observing the embarrassment under which he labom'cd, now 
shifting on his chair, and now danghng his cap, the whole man 
evincing that he was perfectly at a loss how to open the conver- 
sation, she could keep her composure no longer, but after a vain 



132 THE ^ATEELEY GAlLEEY. 

stnicrcrle broke out into a sincere. tlious:li a verv involuntary fit 
of laughing, so richly accompanied by the laughter of her meiTj 
eyes, which actually glanced through the teai's which the effort 
filled them with, and by the waging of her rich tresses, that the 
goddess of smiles herself never looked more lovely than Cathe- 
i-ine at that moment. A coiui: page would not have left her 
long alone in her miith ; but Roland was coimtiy-bred, and, be- 
sides, ha"\ing some jealousy, as well as bashfulness, he took it 
into his head that he himself was the object of her inextinguish- 
able laughter. His endeavors to sympathize with Catheiine, 
therefore, could cany him no faither than a forced giggle, which 
had more of displeasm-e than of minh in it, and which so mucli 
enhanced that of the gii'l, that it seemed to render it impossible 
for her ever to bring her laughter to an end, with whatever anx- 
ious pains she labored to do so. 

Roland sat, with some impatience, imtil Catherine had ex- 
hausted either her power or her desire of laughing, and was re- 
tuiTiing with good grace to the exercise of her needle, and then 
he obser^'ed with some dryness, that '*' there seemed no ereat 
occasion to recommend to them to improve theii' acquaintance, 
as it seemed that they were abeady tolerably familiar.'"'' 

Catherine had an extreme desir'e to set off" upon a fresh score, 
but she repressed it strongly, and fixing her eyes on her work, 
rephed by asking his pardon, and promising to avoid future 
offence. 

Roland had sense enoush to feel that an aii' of offended dio;- 
nity was very much misplaced, and .that it was with a very dif- 
ferent bearins: he ou^ht to meet the deep blue eves which had 
borne such a heartv biu'den in the laushins: scene. He tried, 
therefore, to extricate himself as well as he could from his blim- 
der, by assuming a tone of coiTesponding gayety, and requesting 



CATHERIJSTE SEYTON. I33 

to know of tlie nymph, " how it was her pleasure that they should 
proceed in improving the acquaintance which had commenced 
so merrily." 

" That/' she said, " you must yourself discover ; perhaps I 
have gone a step too far in opening our interview." 

" Suppose/' said Roland Graeme, " we should begin as in a 
tale-book, by asking each other's names and histories/' 

'' It is right well imagined," said Catherine, " and shows an 
argute judgment. Do you begin, and I will listen, and only put 
in a question or two at the dark parts of the story. Come, un- 
fold, then, your name and history, my new acquaintance." 

" I am called Roland Graeme, and that tall old woman is my 
grandmother." 

" And your tutoress ? — Good. Who are your parents ? " 

" They are both dead," replied Roland. 

" Ay, but who were they ? You /lad parents, I presume ? " 

"I suppose so," said Roland, "but I have never been able 
to learn much of their history. My father was a Scottish 
knight, who died gallantly in his stirrups — my mother was a 
Graeme of HeathergUl, in the Debateable Land — most of her 
family were killed when the Debateable country was burned by 
the Lord Maxwell and Herries of Caerlaverock." 

" Is it long ago ? " said the damsel. 

" Before- 1 was born," answered the page. 

" That must be a great while since," said she, shaking her 
head gravely ; '* look you, I cannot weep for them/' 

"It needs not," said the youth, " they fell with honor/' 

" So much for your lineage, fair sir," rephed his companion, 
*' of whom I like the living specimen " (a glance at the case- 
ment) " far less than those that are dead. Your much honored 
grandmother looks as if she could make one weep in sad earnest. 



[34 THE WATEELEY GALLEKl. 

And now, fair sir, for yonr own person — if you tell not tlie tale 
faster, it Trill be cut short in the middle ; Mother Bridget pauses 
longer and longer every time she passes the window, and with 
her there is as httle mirth as in the grave of your ancestors." 

'*' My tale is soon told : I was introduced into the Castle of 
Avenel to be page to the lady of the mansion, and learned to 
fly a hawk, halloo to a hoimd. back a horse, and wield lance, 
bow, and brand." 

" And to boast of all this when vou have learned it," said 
Catherine, '• which, in France at least, is the surest accomplish- 
ment of a page. — ^Xay, but keep your distance, most gallant sir," 
said the blue-eyed maiden, as Roland edged his chair nearer to 
her, " for, unless I gieatly mistake, these reverend ladies will soon 
inten*upt our amicable conference, if the acquaintance they recom- 
mend shall seem to proceed beyond a certain point — so, fair 
sir, be pleased to abide by your station, and reply to my ques- 
tions. — ^TThat might have been the unhappy event which de- 
prived the Castle of Avenel of an inmate altogether so esti- 
mable ? " 

" Truly, fair gentlewoman," answered the youth, " your real 
proverb says that the longest lane will have a turning, and mine 
was more — ^it was, in fine, a turmng-off." 

" Good ! " said the merry young maiden, "it is an apt play 
on the word. — ^And what occasion was taken for so important a 
catastrophe r — ^Xay, start not for my learning, I do know the 
schools — ^ia plain phrase, why were you sent firom service ? " 

The page shrugged his shoulders, while he rephed: "A 
short tale is soon heard — and a short horse soon curried. I 
made the falconer's boy taste of my switch — ^the falconer threat- 
ened to make me brook his cudgel, — ^he is a kindly clown, as 
well as a stout, and I would rather have been cudgelled bv him 



CATHERINE SEYTOK 135 

than any man in Christendom to choose — but I knew not his 
quahties at that time — so I threatened to make him brook the 
stab, and my Lady made me brook the ' Begone ; ' so adieu to 
the page's office and the fair Castle of Avenel. I had not 
travelled far before I met my venerable parent — And so tell 
your tale, fair gentlewoman, for mine is done." 

" A happy grandmother," said the maiden, " w^ho had the 
luck to find the stray page just when his mistress had slipped 
his leash, and a most lucky page that has jumped at once from 
a page to an old lady's gentleman- usher ! " 

" All this is nothing of your history," answered Roland 
Grseme, who began to be much interested in the congenial 
vivacity of this facetious young gentlewoman, — " tale for tale is 
fellow-traveller's justice." 

" Wait till we are fellow-travellers, then," replied Catherine. 

" Nay, you escape me not so," said the page ; " if you deal 
not justly by me, I will call out to Dame Bridget, or whatever 
your dame be called, and proclaim you for a cheat." 

" You shall not need," answered the maiden — " my history 
is the counterpart of your own ; the same words might almost 
serve, change but dress and name. I am called Catherine Sey- 
ton, and I also am an orphan." 

" Have your parents been long dead ? " 

" That is the only question," said she, throwing down her 
fine eyes with a sudden expression of sorrow, — " that is the 
only question I cannot laugh at." 

" And Dame Bridget is your grandmother ? " 

The sudden cloud passed away like that which crosses for an 
instant the summer sun, and she answered, with her usual lively 
expression, " Worse, by twenty degrees — Dame Bridget is my 
maiden aunt." 



236 THE WAYEPvLEY GALLERY. 

" Over gods forebode ! " said Roland — " Alas ! tliat jom 
liave sucli a tale to tell ! And wliat lioiTor comes next ? " 

" Your own histor}-, exactly. I was taken upon trial for 
service " 



" And turned off for pincMng the duenna, or affronting my 
lady's waiting-woman ? " 

" Xay, our liistory vaiies there/' said the damsel — " Our 
mistress broke up house, or had her house broke up, which is 
the same thing, and I am a free woman of the forest." 

" And I am as glad of it as if any one had Hned my doublet 
with cloth of gold," said the youth. " What say you, Catherine," 
he continued, '' if we two, thus strangely turned out of sendee 
at the same time, should give our two most venerable duennas 
the torch to hold, while we walk a merry measm'e with each 
other over the floor of this weary world ? " 

" A goodly proposal, truly," said Catherine, " and worthy 
the madcap brain of a discarded page I — And what shifts does 
yom- worship propose we should hve by ? — ^by singing ballads, 
cutting pm'ses, or swaggering on the highway ? for there, I think, 
you would find your most productive exchequer." 

" Choose, you proud peat ! " said the page, drawing off in 
huge disdain at the calm and unemban-assed ridicule with which 
his vrild proposal was received. And as he spoke the words, 
the casement was agam darkened by the forms of the matrons — 
it opened, and admitted Magdalen Graeme and the Mother 
Abbess, so we must now style her, into the apai'tment. 



JANET FOSTER. 

" 0, 1 HAVE nought to complain of," answered the lady, *' so 
he discharges his task with fidelity to you ; and his daughter 
Janet is the kindest and best companion of my solitude — ^her 
little air of precision sits so well upon her ! " 

" Is she, indeed ? " said the Earl ; " she who gives you 
pleasure must not pass unrewarded. Come hither, damsel." 

" Janet," said the lady, " come hither to my lord." 

Janet, who, as we already noticed, had discreetly retired to 
some distance, that her presence might be no check upon the 
private conversation of her lord and lady, now came forward ; 
and as she made her reverential courtesy, the Earl could not avoid 
smiling at the contrast which the extreme simplicity of her dress, 
and the prim demureness of her looks made, with a very pretty 
countenance, and a pair of black eyes, that laughed in spite of 
their mistress's desire to look grave. 

" I am bound to you, pretty damsel," said the Earl, " for 
the contentment which your service hath given to this lady." 
As he said this, he took from his finger a ring of some price, and 
ofiered it to Janet Poster, adding, ''Wear this, for her sake and 
for mine." 

18 



138 - - -— T > ll^.Y 

" I am well pleased, my lord," answered Janet, demurely, 
" that my poor senic?e liath gratified my lady, wliom no one can 
draw nigh to without desiring to please ; but we of the precious 
Master Holdforth's congr^ation, seek not, Hke the gay daugh- 
ters of this world, to twine gold around our fingers, or wear 
stones uqpon our neoks, like the Tain women of Tyre and of 
Sidon." 

• 0, what ! you are a grave professor of the precise sister- 
hood, pretty Mrs. Janet," said the Ead, " and I think your Mhi^ 
is of the same consrres^tion in sinceritv ? I like tou. both the 
better for it ; for I hare been piayed for, and wished well to, in 
TOUT conorresations. And Ton mav better af^rd the lack of or- 
nament, Mrs. Janet, because tout finders are slender, and tout 
neck white. But here is what neither papist nor puritan, lati- 
tudinarian nor partisan, ever boggles or nifte? mouths at. E'en 
take it, my giri, and employ it as you hsi. 

So saying, he put into her hand fiTe bioad gold pieces ci 
P hflfp and Marr. 

" I would not accept this gold neither," said Janet, "but 
that I hope to find a use for it, which will bring a blessing on 
us an." 

•* Etcu please thyself, pretty Janet,' said the Eari, *' and I 
shall be well satisfied — ^And I prithee, let them hasten the eren- 
ins collation," 



AMY ROBSART, 

The Earl had re-entered the bedchamber, bent on taking a 
hasty farewell of the lovely Conntess, and scarce daring to trust 
himself in private with her, to hear requests again urged which 
he found it difficult to parry, yet which his recent conversation 
with his Master of Horse had determined him not to grant. 

He found her in a white cymar of silk lined with furs, her 
httle feet unstockinged, and hastily thrust into slippers ; her un- 
braided hair escaping from under her midnight coif, with little 
array but her own lovehness. 

While she stood leaning with her arms upon a table, and 
with a corresponding expression betwixt listlessness and expecta- 
tion on her fine and intelligent features, you might have searched 
sea and land without finding any thing half so expressive or half so 
lovely. The wreath of brilliants which she held did not match 
in lustre the hazel eye which a light brown eyebrow, pencilled 
with exquisite delicacy, and long eyelashes of the same color, 
relieved and shaded. The exercise she had lately taken, her ex- 
cited expectation and gratified vanity, spread a glow over her 
fine features, which had been sometimes censured (as beauty as 
well as art has her minute critics) for being rather too pale. 



140 THE WATZELEY GALLERY. 

The milk-wliite pearls of the necklace which she wore, the same 
which she had just received as a true-love token from her hus- 
band, were excelled in purity by her teeth, and by the color of 
her skin, saving where the blush of pleasure and self-satisfaction 
had somewhat stained the neck with a shade of light 
crimson. 

'• Xow, God be with thee, my dearest and lovehest I '' said 
the Earl, scarce tearras^ himself from her embrace, vet ao^ain re- 
tiKnins: to fold her asain and asain in his aiTas, and a^ain bid- 
ding fareweU, and again retm^nmg to kiss and bid adieu once 
more. '•' The sim is on the verge of the blue horizon — I 
dare not stay. Ere this I should have been ten miles fi'om 
hence.'*' 

Such were the words with which at length he strove to cut 
short then partmg inteniew. 

'•' You wiU not grant my - request, then r '' said the 
Cotmtess. " Ah, false knight I did ever lady, with bare foot 
in shpper, seek boon of a brave knight, yet retmii with 
denial ! " 

'•' Any thing. Amy — any thing thou canst ask I will grant/' 
answered the Earl, ''always excepting," he said, *•' that which 
might ruin us both.'"' 

It was then that the Countess Amy displayed, in the midst 
of distresses and difficulties, the natural energ}- of character 
which would have rendered her, had fate allowed, a chstiaguished 
ornament of the rank she held. She walked up to Leicester 
^rith a composed step, a dignified air, and looks in which strong 
affection essayed in vain to shake the fiiToness of conscious truth 
and rectitude of principle. '" T\Tll yom lordship be pleased to 
hear what a yoimg and timid woman, but yoiu' most affectionate 
wife, can suggest in the present extremity ? '' 



AMY KOBSART. 141 

Leicester was silent, but bent his head towards the Countess, 
as an intimation that she was at hberty to proceed. 

" There hath been but one cause for all these evils, my lord," 
she proceeded, " and it resolves itself into the mysterious du- 
plicity with which you have been induced to surround yourself. 
Extricate yourself at once, my lord, from the tyranny of these 
disgraceful trammels. Be like a true English gentleman, knight, 
and earl, who holds that truth is the foundation of honor, and 
that honor is dear to him as the breath of his nostrils. Take 
your ill-fated wife by the hand, lead her to the footstool of Ehza- 
beth's throne — say, that in a moment of infatuation, moved by 
supposed beauty, of which none perhaps can now trace even the 
remains, I gave my hand to this Amy Kobsart. You will then 
have done justice to me, my lord, and to your own honor ; and 
should law or power require you to part from me, I will oppose 
no objection — since I may then with honor hide a grieved and 
broken heart in those shades from which your love withdrew 
me. Then — ^have but a little patience, and Amy's life will not 
long darken your brighter prospects." 

There was so much of dignity, so much of tenderness, in the 
Countess's remonstrance, that it moved all that was noble and 
generous in the soul of her husband. The scales seemed 
to fall from his eyes, and the duplicity and tergiversation of 
which he had been guilty stung him at once with remorse and 
shame. 

" I am not worthy of you. Amy," he said, " that could weigh 
aught which ambition has to give against such a heart as thine ! 
I have a bitter penance to perform, in disentangling, before 
sneering foes and astounded friends, all the meshes of my own 
deceitful policy. And the Queen — but let her take my licad, 
as she has threatened." 



242 THE WAVERLEY GALLERY. 

" Your head, mv lord ! " said the Countess : '•' because vou 
used the freedom and Hberty of an Enghsh subject in choosing 
a wife ? For shame ; it is this distrust of the Queen's justice, 
this apprehension of danger, which cannot but be imaginary, 
that, hke scarecrows, have induced you to forsake the straight- 
foi'ward path, which, as it is the best, is also the safest." 



MIMA TROIL. 

Prom her motlier, Minna inherited the stately form and 
dark eyes, the raven locks and finely pencilled brows, which 
showed she was, on one side at least, a stranger to the blood of 
Thule. Her cheek, — 

" call it fair, not pale ! " 

was so slightly and delicately tinged with the rose, that many 
thought the lily had an undue proportion in her complexion. 
But in that predominance of the paler flower, there was nothing 
sicldy or languid ; it was the true natural color of health, and 
corresponded in a peculiar degree with features, which seemed 
calculated to express a contemplative and high-minded character. 
When Minna_Troil heard a tale of woe or of injustice, it was 
then her blood rushed to her cheeks, and showed plainly how 
warm it beat, notwithstanding the generally serious, composed, 
and retiring disposition, which her countenance and demeanor 
seemed to exhibit. If strangers sometimes conceived that these 
fine features were clouded by melancholy, for which her age and 
situation could scarce have given occasion, they were soon satis- 
fied, upon fm^ther acquaintance, that the placid, mild quietude 



144 ^^ A^Ll^i -LLl^i. 

of her dispositioii, and the mental eneigy of a character which 
was but litOe interested in ordmar)r and trivial occorrences, was 
the real cause of her grayity ; and most men, when they knew 
that her melanchofy had no groimd in real sonrow, and was only 
the aspiratLon of a soul bent on more important objects than 
those by which she was surrounded, might have wished her 
whatever could add to her happiness, but could scarce hare de- 
sired that^ gracefdl as she was i:: LtL :: TTrral and unaffected 
seriousness, she should c 1 ? r r i " . : : : :_ i_t for one mcse 

gay. In short, notwitLs ^ ^^ r wish to have avoided that 
hackneyed ^mile of an angel, we cannot avoid saying there was 
something in the serious beauty of her aspect, in the measured, 
yet giacefid ease of her motions, in the music of her Toice, and 
the serene purity of her eye, that seemed as if Tirana Troil be- 
longed naturally to some higher and better sphere, and was only 

the chance visitant of a world that was not worthy of her. 

■ 

Minna appeared to bring to society a contented wish to be 
interested and pleased with what was gtring forward, but her 
spirit was rather placidly carried along with the stream of mirth 
and pleasure, than disposed to aid its progress by any efforts of 
her own. She endured mirth, rather than enjoyed it ; and the 
pleasures in which she most delighted, were those of a grayer 
and more sohtaiy cast. The knoidedge which is derived firom 
books was beyond her reach. Zetland afforded few opportuni- 
ties in those days, of studying the lessons, bequeathed 

*^E7 ii^i zirn :o rlrir kini ;" 

and Magnus Trail was not a person within whose mansion the 
means of such knowledge were to be acquired. But the book 
of nature was before ^ilinna, that noblest of volumes, where we 



MINNA TROIL. 145 

are ever called to wonder and to admire, even when we cannot 
understand. The plants of those wild regions, the shells on the 
shores, and the long list of feathered clans which haunt their 
chffs and eyries, were as well known to Minna Troil as to the 
most experienced fowlers. Her powers of observation were won- 
derful, and little interrupted by other tones of feeling. The in- 
formation which she acquired by habits of patient attention, was 
indelibly riveted in a naturally powerful memory. She had also 
a high feeling for the solitary and melancholy grandeur of the 
scenes in which she was placed. The ocean, in all its varied 
forms of sublimity and terror— the tremendous cliffs that re- 
sounded to the ceaseless roar of the billows, and the clang of 
the sea-fowl, had for Minna a charm in almost every state in 
which the changing seasons exhibited them. With the enthu- 
siastic feelings proper to the romantic race from which her 
mother descended, the love of natural objects were to her a pas- 
sion capable not only of occupying, but at times of agitating, her 
mind. Scenes upon which her sister looked with a sense of 
transient awe or emotion, which vanished on her return from 
witnessing them, continued long to fill Minna's imagination, 
not only in solitude, and in the silence of the night, but in the 
hours of society. So that sometimes when she sat like a beau- 
tiful statue, a present member of the domestic circle, her 
thoughts were far absent, wandering on the wild sea-shore, and 
among the yet wilder mountains of her native isles. And yet, 
when recalled to conversation, and mingling in it with interest, 
there were few to whom her friends were more indebted for en- 
hancing its enjoyments ; and although something in her manners 
claimed defence (notwithstanding her early youth) as well as af- 
fection, even her gay, lovely, and amiable sister was not more 
generally beloved than the more retired and pensive Minna. 
19 



146 THE WAYERLEY GALLEEY. 

Sadly, then, Brenda gazed at Minna, vrho sat in tliat rude 
chair of dark stone, her finely formed shape and hmbs making 
the strongest contrast with its ponderous and irregular angles, 
her cheek and hps as pale as clay, and her eyes turned upward, 
and hghted with the mixture of resignation and excited enthu- 
siasm, which belonged to her disease and her character. Prom 
her she looked to Noma, who muttered to herself in a low monot- 
onous manner, as ghding from one place to another, she col- 
lected different articles, which she placed one by one on the 
table. And lastly, Brenda looked anxiously to her father, to 
gather, if possible, fi'om his countenance, whether he entertained 
any part of her own fears for the consequences of the scene, con- 
sidering the state of Minna's health and spirits. 



MARGARET RAMSAY. 

In the sad task of examining on the walls, the written mis- 
eries of his predecessors in captivity, Lord Glenvarloch was in- 
terrupted by the sudden opening of the door of his prison-room. 
It was the warder, who came to inform him, that, by order of 
the Lieutenant of the Tower, his lordship was to have the so- 
ciety and attendance of a feUow-prisoner in his place of conj&ne- 
ment. Nigel replied hastily, that he wished no attendance, and 
would rather be left alone ; but the warder gave him to under- 
stand, with a kind of grumbling civility, that the Lieutenant 
was the best judge how his prisoners should be accommodated, 
and that he would have no trouble with the boy, who was 
such a slip of^ a thing as was scarce worth turning a key upon. 
—"There, Giles," he said, " bring the child in." 

Another warder put the " lad before him " into the room, 
and, both withdrawing, bolt crashed and chain clanged, as they 
replaced these ponderous obstacles to freedom. The boy was 
clad in a gray suit of the finest cloth, laid down with silver lace, 
with a buff-colored cloak of the same pattern. His cap, which 



]^4.S THE ^AYERLEY GALLERY. 

was a Montero of black velvet, was pulled over liis brows, and, 
with tlie profusion of liis long ringlets, almost concealed his 
face. He stood on the xerj spot where the warder had quitted 
his collar, about two steps from the door of the apartment, his 
eyes fixed on the ground, and every joint trembhng with 
confusion and terror. Xigel could well have dispensed 
with his society, but it was not in his natm^e to behold 
distress, whether of body or mind, vrithout endeavoring to 
relieve it. 

" Cheer up," he said, '' my pretty lad. "We are to be com- 
panions, it seems, for a httle time — at least I trust yom- con- 
finement will be short, since you are too young to have done 
aught to deseiTe long restraint." 

The boy suff'ered himself to be led and seated by the fii'e, 
but, after retaining for a long time the xeij posture which he 
assumed in sittins; dovm, he suddenlv chano;ed it in order to 
wring his hands T\ith an ah^ of the bitterest distress, and 
then, spreading them before his face, wept so plentifully, 
that the tears found their way in floods through his slender 
fingers. 

'' Tell me who and what you are, my pretty boy," said 
Xigel. '' Consider me, child, as a companion, who wishes 
to be kind to you, would you but teach him how he can be 
so. 

" Sir — my lord, I mean," aaswered the boy, very timidly, 
and in a voice which could scarce be heard even across the brief 
distance which divided them, " you are very good — and I — am 
very unhappy " — ■ 

" There is something singular about you, my young friend," 
said Lord Glenvarloch, ^^-ithdrawing with a gentle degree of 
compulsion the hand with which the boy had again covered his 



MARGAEET EAMSAY. 149 

eyes ; " do not pain yourself with thinking on your situation just 
at present — your pulse is high, and your hand feverish — lay 
yourself on yonder pallet, and try to compose yourself to sleep. 
It is the readiest and best remedy for the fancies with which 
you are worrying yourself/' 

" I thank you for your considerate kindness, my lord," said 
the boy ; " with your leave I will remain for a little space quiet 
in this chair — I am better thus than on the couch. I can think 
undisturbedly on what I have done, and have still to do ; and 
if God sends slumber to a creatrire so exhausted, it shall be most 
welcome." 

So saying, the boy drew his hand from Lord Nigel's, and, 
drawing around him and partly over his face the folds of his 
ample cloak, he resigned himself to sleep or meditation, while 
his companion, notwithstanding the exhausting scenes of this and 
the preceding day, continued his pensive walk up and down the 
apartment. 

Every reader has experienced, that times occur, when, far 
from being lords of external circumstances, man is unable to 
rule even the wayward realm of his o^vn thoughts. It was 
Nigel's natural wish to consider his own situation coolly, and 
fix on the course which it became him as a man of sense and 
courage to adopt ; and yet, in spite of himself, and notwithstand- 
ing the deep-interest of the critical state in which he was placed, 
it did so happen that his fellow-prisoner's situation occupied 
more of his thoughts than did his own. There was no account- 
ing for this wandering of the imagination, but also there was no 
striving with it. The pleading tones of one of the sweetest 
voices he had ever heard, still rung in his ear, though it seemed 
that sleep had now fettered the tongue of the speaker. He drew 
nearer on tiptoe to satisfy himself whether it were so. The folds 



250 THE ^AVERLEY GALLEEY. 

of the cloak hid the lower part of his face entii'ely ; but the bon- 
net, which had fallen a little aside, peimitted him to see the 
forehead streaked with blue veins, the closed eyes, and the long 
silken eyelashes. 

'•' Poor cluld,'' said Xigel to himseK, as he looked on him, 
nestled up as it were in the folds of his mantle, *•' the dew is yet 
on thy eyelashes, and thou hast fairly wept thyself asleep. Sor- 
row is a rough nurse to one so young and dehcate as thou art. 
Peace be to thy slumbers, I will not disturb them. My own 
misfortunes reqmi'e my attention, and it is to theii' contemplation 
that I must resign myself." 

The harsh sound of the revohino: bolts was asaui heard, and 
the voice of the warder announced that a man desned to speak 
with Lord Glenvarloch. 

"Sohl" said Xigel, something displeased, •'•'I find even a 
prison does not save one from impoitimate visitations.'"' 

The door opened, and the worthy citizen, George Heriot, 
entered the prison-chamber. 

He cast aroimd the apartment his usual shar^D, quick glance 
of observation, and, advanciag to Xigel, said : '*' My lord, I wish 
I could say I was happy to see you." 

'•' The sight of those who are unhappy themselves. Master 
Heriot, seldom produces happiness to their fiiends — I, however, 
am glad to see you." 

'•' My lord, why do I find you in this place, and whelmed 
with charges which must blacken a name rendered famous by 
ages of virtue ? " 

"Simply, then, you find me here," said Nigel, '"'because, to 
begin from my original error, I would be wiser than my 
father.'"' 

*•' It is weU, mv lord," answered Heriot, coldlv. '•' You have 



MAEGAEET EAMSAY. 15^ 

a right, sucli as it is, to keep your own secrets ; but, since my 
discourse on tliese points seems so totally unavailing, we had 
better proceed to business. Yet your father's image rises before 
me, and seems to plead that I should go on." 

*' Be it as you will, sir," said Glenvarloch. 

" You cannot have forgotten, my lord," said Heriot, " the 
transaction which took place some weeks since at Lord Hunting- 
len's, by which a large sum of money was advanced for the re- 
demption of your lordship's estate ? " 

" I remember it perfectly," said NigeL 

Heriot bowed gravely, and went on. " That money was ad- 
vanced under the expectation and hope that it might be replaced 
by the contents of a grant to your lordship, under the royal sign- 
manual, in payment of certain moneys due by the crown to your 
father. I trust your lordship understood the transaction at the 
time. — I trust you now understand my resumption of its import, 
and hold it to be correct ? " 

" Undeniably correct," answered Lord Glenvarloch. '' If 
the sums contained in the warrant cannot be recovered, my lands 
become the property of those who paid off the original holders 
of the mortgage, and now stand in their right." 

" If you wiU trust me with the warrant under the sign-man- 
ual, I believe circumstances do now so stand at Court, that I 
may be able to recover the money for you." 

*' I would do so gladly," said Lord Glenvarloch, " but the 
casket which contains it is not in my possession. It was seized 
when I was arrested at Greenwich." 

"It wiU be no longer withheld from you," said Heriot; 
" your baggage was in the little ante-room as I passed — the cas- 
ket caught my eye — you had it of me. Ho ! warder, bring in 
Lord Glenvarloch's baggage." The officer obeyed. Seals had 



152 THE WAYERLET GALLERY. 

been placed upon the trunk and casket, but were now removed, 
the warder said, in consequence of the subsequent orders from 
Court, and the whole was placed at the prisoner's free dis- 
posal. 

Desirous to bring this painful visit to a conclusion. Lord 
Glenvarloch opened the casket, and looked through the papers 
which it contained, first hastily, and then more slowly and accu- 
rately ; but it was all in vain. The Sovereign's signed warrant 
had disappeared. 

" I thought and expected nothiag better," said George He- 
riot, bitterly. " The beginning of e\il is the lettiog out of wa- 
ter. Here is a fair heritage lost, I dare say, on a foul cast at 
dice, or a conjuring trick at cards I — My lord, your sm^rise is 
well played. I give you full joy of your accomplishments. I 
have seen many as yoimg brawlers and spendthrifts, but never 
so young and accomplished a dissembler. Xay, man, never 
bend your angry brows on me. I speak in bitterness of heart, 
from what I remember of your worthy father ; and if his son 
hears of his degeneracy from no one else, he shall hear of it from 
the old goldsmith." 

This new suspicion drove Xigel to the ver}^ extremity of his 
patience ; yet the motives and zeal of the good old man, as well 
as the circumstances of suspicion which created his displeasure, 
were so excellent an excuse for it, that they formed an absolute 
curb on the resentment of Lord Glenvarloch, and constrained 
him, after two or three hasty exclamations, to obsen^e a proud 
and sullen silence. At length, blaster Heriot resiuned his lec- 
tinre. 

" Hark you, my lord," he said, *' it is scarce possible that 
this most important paper can be absolutely assigned away. 



MAKGAKET EAMSAY. 253 

Let me know in what obscure comer, and for wliat petty sum, 
it lies pledged — sometliing may yet be done." 

" Your efforts in my favor are tlie more generous," said Lord 
GlenvarlocL, " as you offer them to one whom you believe yon 
have cause to think hardly of — ^but they are altogether unavail- 
ing. ^Fortune has taken the field against me at every point. 
Even let her win the battle." 

" Zouns ! " exclaimed Heriot, impatiently ; " you would 
make a saint swear ! Why, I tell you, if this paper, the loss of 
which seems to sit so light on you, be not found, farewell to the 
fair lordship of Glenvarloch — ^firth and forest — ^lea and furrow — ■ 
lake and stream — all that has been in the house of Olifaunl 
since the days of William the Lion ! " 

'' Parewell to them, then," said Nigel, " and that moan h 
soon made." 

" 'S death ! my lord, you will make more moan for ii 
ere you die," said Heriot, in the same tone of angry impa- 
tience. 

" Not I, my old friend," said Nigel. " If I mourn. Master 
Heriot, it will be for having lost the good opinion of a worthy 
man, and lost it, as I must say, most undeservedly." 

"Ay, ay, young man," said Heriot, shaking his head, " make 
me believe that if you can. To sum the matter up," he said, 
rising from his seat, and walking towards that occupied by the 
disguised female, " for our matters are now drawn into small 
compass, you shall as soon make me believe that this masquer- 
ading mummy, on whom I now lay the hand of paternal author- 
ity, is a Prench page, who understands no English." 

So saying, he took hold of the supposed page's cloak, and 
not without some gentle degree of violence, led into the middle 



20 



154 THE WAYEELEY GALLERY. 

of the apartment the disguised fair one, who in vaiu attempted 
to cover her face, first with her mantle, and afterwards with her 
hands ; both which impediments Master Heriot removed, some- 
what unceremoniously, and gave to \iew the detected daughter 
of the old horologist, his own fair god-daughter, ]\Iargaret 
Ramsay. 




rZVFEU. iJT TBZ TEAK 



ALICE BPJDGENORTH. 

As he approached the monument of Goddard Crovan, Julian 
cast many an anxious glance to see whether any object visible 
beside the huge gray stone, should apprise him whether he was 
anticipated, at the appointed place of rendezvous, by her who 
had named it. Nor was it long before the flutter of a mantle, 
which the breeze slightly waved, and the motion necessary to re- 
place it upon the wearer's shoulders, made him aware that Alice 
had already reached their place of meeting. One instant set 
the palfrey at liberty, with slackened girths and loosened reins, 
to pick its own way through the dell at will ; another placed 
Julian Peveril by the side of Alice Bridgenorth. 

A lovely girl — bred in solitude, and in the quiet and unpre- 
tending tastes_ Avhich solitude encourages — spirited also and in- 
quisitive, and listening, with a laughing cheek and an eager eye, 
to every tale which the young angler brought from the town and 
castle. The sad-colored gown — the pinched and plaited cap, 
which carefully obscured the profusion of long dark-brown hair 
— the small ruff, and the long sleeves, would have appeared to 
great disadvantage on a shape less graceful than Alice Bridge- 
north's ; but an exquisite form, though not, as yet, sufficiently 



3 56 THE WAYEPvLEY GALLEEY. 

rounded in the outlines to produce the perfection of female 
beauty, was able to sustain and give grace even to this unbe- 
coming dress. Her countenance, fair and delicate, with eyes of 
hazel, and a brow of alabaster, had, notwithstanding, less regular 
beauty than her form, and might have been justly subjected to 
criticism. There was, however, a life and spirit in her gayety, 
and a depth of sentiment in her gravity, which made Ahce, in 
conversation with the very few persons with whom she asso- 
ciated, so fascinating in her manners and expression, whether of 
language or countenance — so touching, also, in her simphcity 
and purity of thought, that brighter beauties might have been 
overlooked in her company. It was no wonder, therefore, that 
an ardent character hke Julian, influenced by these charms, as 
well as by the secrecy and mystery attending his intercourse 
with Ahce, should prefer the recluse of the Black Port to all 
others with whom he had become acquainted in general society. 

That Ahce should extend her hand to her lover, as with the 
ardor of a young greyhound he bounded over the obstacles of the 
rugged path, was as natural as that Julian, seizing on the hand so 
kindly stretched out, should devour it with kisses, and, for a mo- 
ment or two, without reprehension ; while the other hand, which 
should have aided in the hberation of its fellow, served to hide 
the blushes of the fair owner. But Alice, young as she was, 
and attached to Julian by such long habits of kindly intimacy, 
still knew well how to subdue the tendency of her own treach- 
erous affections. 

It required but a few energetic words for Julian to explain 
to Alice at once his feelings, and to make her sensible of the 
real natm-e of her own. She wept plentifully, but her tears 
were not aU of bitterness. She sat passively still, and without 
reply, while he explained to her, with many an interjection, the 



ALICE BEIDGENOKTH. I57 

circumstances which had placed discord between their famihes ; 
for hitherto, all that she had known was, that ]\Iaster Peveril, 
belonging to the household of the great Countess or Lady of 
Man, must observe some precautions in visiting a relative of the 
unhappy Colonel Christian. But, when Julian concluded his 
tale with the warmest protestations of eternal love, '' My poor 
father ! " she burst forth, " and was this to be the end of all thy 
precautions ? — Tliis, that the son of him that disgraced and 
banished thee, should hold such language to your daughter ! " 

" You err, Ahce, you err," cried Julian, eagerly. '' That I 
hold this language — that the son of Peveril addresses thus the 
daughter of your father — that he thus kneels to you for forgive- 
ness of injuries which passed when we were both infants, shows 
the wiU of Heaven, that in our affection should be quenched the 
discord of om' parents. What else could lead those who parted 
infants on the hills of Derby shke, to meet thus in the valleys 
of Man?" 

Alice, however new such a scene, and, above all, her own 
emotions, might be, was highly endowed with that exquisite 
dehcacy which is imprinted in the female heart, to give warning 
of the slightest approach to impropriety in a situation like hers. 

" Rise, rise, Master Peveril," she said ; " do not do yourself 
and me this injustice — ^we have done both wrong — ^very wrong ; 
but my fault was done in ignorance. Oh God ! my poor father, 
who needs comfort so much — is it for me to add to his misfor- 
tunes ? — Rise ! " she added, more firmly ; "if you retain this 
unbecoming posture any longer, I mil leave the room, and you 
shall never see me more." 

The commanding tone of Alice overawed the impetuosity of 
her lover, who took in silence a seat removed to some distance 
from hers, and was again about to speak. " Julian," she said, 



15S ^= ^ATErlLZY GaLLZEY. 

in a milder tone, "you have spoken enougli, and more tlian 
enongli- Wonld you had left me in the pleasing dream in 
which I could have listened to you forever ! but the hour of 
wakening is arrived." Peveril waited the prosecution of her 
speech as a criminal while he waits his doom ; for he was suf- 
ficiently sensible that an answer, delivered not certainly without 
emotion, but with firmness and resolution, was not to be inter- 
rupted. " We have done wrong," she repeated, '* very wrong ; 
and if we n: vr separate forever, the pain we may feel will be 
but a just penalty for our error. We should never have met. 
Meeting, we should part as soon as possible. Our farther in- 
tercouKe can but double our pain at parting. — ^Farewell, Julian ; 
and forsret we ever have seen each other I '*' 

'• Torget ! " said Julian ; " never, never. To you it is easy 
to speak the word — to think the thought. To me, an approach 
to either can only be by utter destraction." 



JACQUELINE. 

"Blaspheme not the Saints, my young friend," said Maitre 
Pierre. " Saint Julian is the faithful patron of travellers ; and, 
peradventure, the blessed Saint Quentin had done more and 
better for thee than thou art aware of." 

As he spoke, the door opened, and a girl, rather above than 
under fifteen years old, entered with a platter covered with dam- 
ask, on which was placed a small saucer of the dried plums 
which have always added to the reputation of Tours, and a cup 
of the curiously chased plate which the goldsmiths of that city 
were anciently famous for executing with a delicacy of workman- 
ship that distinguished them from the other cities of Prance, and 
even excelled the skill of the metropolis. The form of the gob- 
let was so elegant, that Durward thought not of observing closely 
whether the material was of silver, or, like what had been placed 
before himself, of a baser metal, bnt so well burnished as to re- 
semble the richer ore. 

But the sight of the young person by whom this service was 
executed, attracted Durward's attention far more than the petty 
minutiae of the duty which she performed. 

He speedily made the discovery, that a quantity of long black 



160 THE -WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

tresses, wliicli, in tlie maiden fashion of his own countiy, were 
unadorned by any ornament, except a single chaplet hghtly 
woven out of ivy leaves, formed a veil around a countenance, 
which, in its regular features, dark eyes, and pensive expression, 
resembled that of Melpomene, though there was a faint glow on 
the cheek, and an intelligence on the hps and in the eye, which 
made it seem that gayety was not foreign to a countenance so 
expressive, although it might not be its most habitual expression. 
Quentin even thought he could discern that depressing circum- 
stances were the cause why a countenance so vouno' and so 
lovely was graver than belongs to early beauty ; and as the ro- 
mantic imagination of youth is rapid m drawing conclusions 
from shght premises, he was pleased to infer, from what follows, 
that the fate of this beautiful vision was wrapped in silence and 
mystery. 

*•' How now, Jacquehne ! " said Maitre Pierre, when she en- 
tered the apartment, — '' "\A^erefore this ? Did I not desue that 
Dame Perette should bring what I wanted ? — Pasques-dieu I — 
Is she, or does she think herself, too good to serve me ? " 

" My kinswoman is ill at ease," answered Jacqueline, m a 
hurried yet an humble tone ; ''ill at ease, and keeps her cham- 
ber." 

" She keeps it alone, I hope ? " rephed Maitre Pierre, with 
some emphasis ; " I am vieux routier, and none of those upon 
whom feigned disorders pass for apologies." 

Jacquehne tm-ned pale, and even tottered at the answer of 
Maitre Pierre ; for it must be owned, that his voice and looks, 
at aU times harsh, caustic, and unpleasing, had, when he ex- 
pressed anger or suspicion, an effect both sinister and alarming. 

The mountain chivalry of Quentin Durward was instantly 
awakened, and he hastened to approach Jacqueline, and relieve 



JACQUELINE. j^g]^ 

her of tlie burden slie bore, and whicli she passively resigned to 
him, while with a timid and anxious look, she watched the coun- 
tenance of the angry burgess. It was not in nature to resist the 
piercing and pity-craving expression of her looks, and Maitre 
Pierre proceeded, not merely with an air of diminished displeas- 
ure, but with as much gentleness as he could assume in counte- 
nance and manner, " I blame not thee, Jacquehne, and thou art 
too young to be — ^what it is pity to think thou must be one day 
— a false and treacherous thing, like the rest of thy giddy sex. 
No man ever lived to man's estate, but he had the opportunity 
to know you all. Here is a Scottish cavalier will tell you the 
same." 

Jacqueline looked for an instant on the young stranger, as 
if to obey Maitre Pierre, but the glance, momentary as it was, 
appeared to Durward a pathetic appeal to him for support and 
sympathy ; and with the promptitude dictated by the feelings 
of youth, and the romantic veneration for the female sex inspired 
by his education, he answered hastily, " That he would throw 
down his gage to any antagonist, of equal rank and equal age, 
who should presume to say such a countenance as that which he 
now looked upon, could be animated by other than the purest 
and the truest mind." 

The young woman grew deadly pale, and cast an apprehen- 
sive glance upon Maitre Pierre, in whom the bravado of the 
young gallant seemed only to excite laughter, more scornful than 
applausive. Quentin, whose second thoughts generally corrected 
the first, though sometimes after they had found utterance, 
blushed deeply at having uttered what might be construed into 
an empty boast, in presence of an old man of a peaceful profes- 
sion; and, as a sort of just and appropriate penance, resolved 
patiently to submit to the ridicule which he had incurred. He 
21 



162 THE WAYEELEY GALLERY. 

offered the cup and trenclier to Maitre Pierre with a blush in his 
cheek, and a humiliation of countenance which endea,vored to 
disguise itself under an embarrassed smile. 

" You are a foolish young man," said Maitre Pierre, " and 
know as little of women as of princes — whose hearts," he said, 
crossing himself devoutly, " God keeps in his right hand." 

" And who keeps those of the women, then ? " said Quentin, 
resolved, if he could help it, not to be borne down by the as- 
sumed superiority of this extraordinary old man, whose lofty and 
careless manner possessed an influence over him of which he felt 
ashamed. 

" I am afraid you must ask of them in another quarter," 
said Maitre Pierre, composedly. 




jT-t SzepJianr^ 



\ JxnidjeniijZia' 



/y? 



Si^OiONAirS 7i-£LL 




(yT^/i^^cP^J^L, 



WAVk-^/r f r7,<,J,V??V 



THE UNKNOWN. 

Father Buonaventure extended his hand towards Alan, 
who was about to pledge his faith in the usual form by grasp- 
ing it with his own, when the Father drew back hastily. Ere 
Alan had time to comment upon this repulse, a small side-door, 
covered with tapestry, was opened ; the hangings were drawn 
aside, and a lady, as if by sudden apparition, glided into the 
apartment. It was neither of the Miss Arthurets, but a woman 
in the prime of life, and in the full-blown expansion of female 
beauty, tall, fair, and commanding in her aspect. Her locks, 
of paly gold, were taught to fall over a brow, which, with the 
stately glance of the large, open, blue eyes, might have become 
Juno herself ; her neck and bosom were admirably formed, and 
of a dazzling whiteness. She was rather inclined to embonpoint, 
but not more than became her age, of apparently thirty years. 
Her step was that of a queen, but it was of Queen Vashti, not 
Queen Esther — the bold and commanding, not the retiring 
beauty. 

Eather Buonaventure raised himself on the couch, angrily, 
as if displeased by this intrusion. " How now, madam," he 
said, with some sternness ; " why have we the honor of your 
company ? " 



IQQ THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

" Because it is my pleasure/' answered tlie lady, composedly. 

" Your pleasure, madame ! " lie repeated in tlie same angry 
tone. 

" My pleasure, sir," she continued, " wMcli always keeps 
exact pace witli my duty. I liad heard you were unwell — ^let 
me hope it is only business which produces this seclusion." 

" I am well," he repHed ; " perfectly well, and I thank you 
for your care — but we are not alone, and this young man " • 

" That young man ? " she said, bending her large and seri- 
ous eye on Alan Fairford, as if she had been for the first time 
aware of his presence — '' may I ask who he is ? " 

" Another time, madame ; you shall learn his history after 
he is gone." 

" After he is gone may be too late," said the lady. 

"Peace, madame," said Pather Buonaventure, rising up; 
" be silent, or quit the apartment ; my designs do not admit of 
female criticism." 

To this peremptory command the lady seemed about to 
make a sharp reply ; but she checked herself, and pressing her 
lips strongly together, as if to secure the words from bursting 
from them which were abeady formed upon her tongue, she 
made a deep reverence, partly as it seemed in reproach, partly 
in respect, and left the room as suddenly as she had entered it. 



GREEMANTLE. 

Alan Fairfokd was in tlie act of speaking to the masked 
lady, (for Miss Redganntlet had retained lier riding vizard,) 
endeavoring to assure her as he perceived her anxiety, of such 
protection as he could afford, when his own name, pronounced 
in a loud tone, attracted his attention. He looked round, and, 
seeing Peter Peebles, as hastily turned to avoid his notice, in 
which he succeeded, so earnest was Peter upon his colloquy 
with one of the most respectable auditors whose attention he had 
ever been able to engage. And by this little motion, momen- 
tary as it was, Alan gained an unexpected advantage ; for while 
he looked round, Miss Lilias, I could never ascertain why, took 
the moment to adjust her mask, and did it so awkwardly, that 
when her companion again turned his head, he recognized as 
much of her features as authorized him to address her as his 
fair client, and to press his offers of protection and assistance 
with the boldness of a former acquaintance. 

Lilias Redgauntlet withdrew the mask from her crimsoned 
cheek. " Mr. Pairford," she said, in a voice almost inaudible, 
" you have the character of a young gentleman of sense and 
generosity ; but we have already met in one situation which you 



168 --- -^TZZIZT '^ALIZ-Y. 

must thmk smgokr; and I irns: be ex] ^-i :: zuisi^is:: i::::-:. 
at least for my forwardness, were it z. r _: i ise in wMcli my 
dearest affections were concerned-" 

** Any interest in my beloved fiiena^ Z*?s-i^ L ^^j_ier," said 
Fairford, stepping alitOe bati, and pnt^li^r _ : it ir r::: : 
upon Ms former adTanoes, " gires me a d: i It ::__: .: r M;-:..! 
to " — He stopped short. 

•" 13 Ms sister, your goodness would say," ansTrered Lilias. 

'* His sLsto", madame ! " replied Alan, in tie extremity of 
astonisMnent^ — '' Sister, I presnme in affection only ? " 

" Xo, sir ; my dear broQi^ Darsie and I are connected by 
the b(HLds of actoal lelationsliq) ; and I am net sorry to be the 
ni^ to ten tMs to tbe frVzi Le m:?t Tahies/' 

Pairford's first tl :; — " *i? wdent passion whidi 
Darsie had expressed : ~ : _ :a_: v rtn own. " Good God ! " 
he exclaimed, " tow „ ':-: the discoyeir r " 

" With resic:::: :::_. I '_ ::>e." said lilias, sndlina:. •■ A more 
accomplished sister lie m .:_: iisily have come by, bnt scaicdy 
conld have fonnd one who could love him mssre than I do." 

" I meant — ^I only meant to say," said the young connsdlar, 
his presence of mind fa i ling him for an instant — ''that is, I 
meant to ask where Darsie Latimer is at this moment." 

"In this very house, and under the r"7 ':":'" :: 1:- 
unde, whom I believe you knew as a visitor oi VuUi i<^u.^. L^i^cJ 
the name of Mr. Hemes dT Birraisworf 

" Let me hast^i to him/* said Fairford ; " I have sought 
him throogh difficulties and dangers — ^I must see Mm instantly." 

" Tou forget you are a prisoner," said the young lady. 

"True — :: e; but I canned be long detained — the cause 
alleged is too ridiculous." 

" Alas ! " said Lilias, * om* fate — mv brother s a^i^ _me, at 



GREENMANTLE. |gg 

least — must turn on the deliberations perhaps of less than an 
hour. For you, sir, I believe and apprehend nothing but some 
restraint ; my uncle is neither cruel nor unjust, though few will 
go farther in the course which he has adopted." 

" Which is that of the Pretend—" 

" Tor God's sake speak lower ! " said Lihas, approaching 
her hand, as if to stop him. " The word may cost you your 
Hfe. You do not know — ^indeed you do not — the terrors of the 
situation in which we at present stand, and in which I fear you 
also are involved by your friendship for my brother." 

" I do not indeed know the particulars of om^ situation," 
said Pairford; "but be the danger what it may I shall not 
grudge my share of it for the sake of my friend ; or," he added, 
with more timidity, " of my friend's sister. Let me hope," he 
said, '' my dear Miss Latimer, that my presence may be of some 
use to you ; and that it may be so let me entreat a share of 
your confidence, which I am conscious I have otherwise no right 
to ask." 

He led her, as he spoke, towards the recess of the farther 
window of the room, and observing to her that, unhappily, he 
was particularly exposed to interruption from the mad old man 
whose entrance had alarmed her, he disposed of Darsie Lati- 
mer's riding-skirt, which had been left in the apartment, over 
the back of two chairs, forming thus a sort of screen, behind 
which he ensconced himself with the maiden of the green- 
mantle ; feeling at the moment, that the danger in which he 
was placed was almost compensated by the intelhgence which 
permitted those feelings towards her to revive, which justice to 
his friend had induced him to stifle in the birth. 

The relative situation of adviser and advised, of protector 

and protected, is so peculiarly suited to the respective condition 

22 



]_70 THE TTAVEELEY GALLEEY. 

of man and woman, tliat great progi'ess towards intimacT is 
often made in veiy sliort space ; for tlie cii'cumstances call for 
confidence on tlie part of the gentleman, and forbid coyness on 
that of the ladv, so that the usual barriers as^ainst easv inter- 
com*se are at once thrown down. 

Under these circumstances, seeming themselves as far as 
possible from observation, conversing in whispers, and seated 
in a corner, where they were brought into so close contact that 
their faces nearlv touched each other, Faiiford heard from Lihas 
Redgauntlet the histoiy of her family, particularly of her uncle ; 
his views upon her brother, and the agony which she felt, lest at 
that very moment he might succeed in engaging Darsie in some 
iesperate scheme, fatal to his fortune, and perhaps to his life. 



RACHAEL GEDDES. 

In a few minutes after Mr. Geddes had concluded the ac- 
count of himself and his family, his sister Rachael, the only sur- 
viving member of it, entered the room. Her appearance is 
remarkably pleasing, and although her age is certainly thirty at 
least, she still retains the shape and motion of an earlier period. 
The absence of every thing like fashion or ornament was, as 
usual, atoned for by the most perfect neatness and cleanliness 
of her dress ; and her simple close cap was particularly suited 
to eyes which had the softness and simplicity of the dove's. 
Her features were also extremely agreeable, but had suffered a 
little through the ravages of that professed enemy to beauty, the 
small-pox ; a disadvantage which was in part counterbalanced 
by a well-formed mouth, teeth like pearls, and a pleasing so- 
briety of smile, that seemed to wish good here and hereafter to 
every one she spoke to. You cannot make any of your vile in- 
ferences here, Alan, for I liave given a full-length picture of 
Rachael Geddes ; so that you cannot say in this case, as in the 
letter I have just received, that she was passed over as a subject 
on which I feared to dilate. More of this anon. 

You know, Alan, how easily I am determined by any tiling 



1 



o THE WATERLEY GALLERY. 



resemblm2 cordiality — and so, tliousli a little afraid of the for- 
malitv of my liost and hostess, I accepted their invitation pro- 
^ided I could get some messenger to send to Shepherd's Bush 
for my sen-ant and portmanteau. 

" Why, truly, friend," said Joshua, '•' thine outward frame 
would be improved by cleaner gaiments ; but I will do thine 
eiTand myself to the Widow Gregson's house of reception, and 
send thy lad hither with thy clothes. ^Meanwhile Rachael will 
show thee these httle gardens, and then will put thee in some 
way of spending thy time usefully, till oui' meal calls us together 
at the second hour afternoon. I bid thee farewell for the present, 
having some space to walk, seeing I must leave the animal Solo- 
mon to his refreshing rest.'"' 

With these words, 'Mi\ Joshua Geddes withdrew. Some 
ladies we have known would have felt, or at least affected, re- 
serve or embaiTassment, at being left to do the honors of the 
grounds to — it ^vill be out, Alan) — a smait young feUow — an 
entire stranger. She went out for a few minutes, and returned 
in her plain cloak and bonnet, with her beaver-gloves, prepared 
to act as my guide, ^vith as much simphcity as if she had been 
to wait upon thy father. So forth I salhed with my fail' Quaker. 



HOSE FLAMMOCK. 

KosE Flammock, tlie daughter of Wilkin, a blue-eyed 
Flemish maiden, round, plump, and shy as a partridge, who had 
been for some time permitted to keep company with the high- 
born Norman damsel, in a doubtful station, betwixt that of an 
humble friend and superior domestic. 

Berwine now exhorted her as she valued her life, to retire 
into the first anteroom, where the beds were prepared, and be- 
take herself, if not to rest, at least to silence and devotion ; but 
the faithful Flemish girl stoutly refused her entreaties, and re- 
sisted her commands. 

**" Talk not to me of danger,'' she said ; " here I remain, that 
I may be at least within hearing of my mistress's danger, and 
woe betide those who shall offer her injury ! Take notice, that 
twenty Norman spears surround this inhospitable dwelling, 
prompt to avenge whatsoever injury shall be offered to the 
daughter of Raymond Berenger." 

"Reserve your threats for those who are mortal," said Ber- 
wine, in a low, but piercing whisper ; " the owner of yonder 
chamber fears them not. Farewell*— -thy danger be on thine 
own head ! " 



174 THE WAVERLEY GALLERY. 

She departed, leading Rose strangely agitated by what had 
passed, and somewhat appalled at her last words. " I will see," 
said the maiden, " if the Xormans are on their post, since it is to 
them I must tmst, if a moment of need should anive." 

Thus reflecting, Rose Hammock went to the T\-indow of the 
little apartment, in order to satisfy herseK of the vigilance of the 
sentinels, and to ascertain the exact situation of the corps de 
garde. The moon was at the full. From the level plain beyond, 
the space adjoining to the castle was in a considerable degree 
clear, and the moonbeams slumbered on its close and beautiful 
tmf, mixed vrith lonsj shadows of the towers and trees. Bevond 
this esplanade lay the forest ground, with a few gigantic oaks 
scattered individually along the skirt of its dark and ample 
domain. 

The calm beauty and repose of a scene so lovely, the still- 
ness of all around, and the more matm-ed reflections which the 
whole suggested, quieted, in some measure, the apprehensions 
which the events of the evening had inspired. '' After all," she 
reflected, ''why should I be so anxious on accoimt of the Lady 
Evehne ? There is among the proud Xormans and the dogged 
Saxons scarce a single family of note, but must needs be held 
distinguished from others by some superstitious obsers'ance 
pecuhar to theii' race, as if they thought it scorn to go to Heaven 
hke a poor simple Fleming, such as I am. Could I but see a 
Xorman sentinel, I would hold myself satisfied of my mistress's 
security. And yonder one stalks along the gloom, wi'apped in his 
long white mantle, and the moon tipping the point of his lance 
with silver. AThat ho. Sir Cavaher ! " 

The XoiToan turned his steps, and approached the ditch as 
she spoke. " ^Vhat is yom^ pleasure, damsel ? " he demanded. 

" The window next to mine is that of Ladv Eveline Berenojer, 



EOSE FLAMMOCK. I75 

whom you are appointed to guard. Please to give needful 
watch upon this side of the castle." 

" Doubt it not, lady/' answered the cavalier ; and, enveloping 
himself in his long chajpjpe, or military watch-cloak, he withdrew 
to a large oak-tree at some distance, and stood there with folded 
arms, and leaning on his lance, more like a trophy of armour 
than a living warrior. 

Emboldened by the consciousness, that in case of need 
succor was close at hand, Rose drew back into her little cham- 
ber, and having ascertained by listening that there was no noise 
or stirring in that of Eveline, she began to make some prepara- 
tions for her ovm repose. Eor this purpose she went into the 
outward anteroom, where Dame GiUian, whose fears had given 
way to the soporiferous effects of a copious draught of lithe-alos, 
(mild ale, of the first strength and quality,) slept as sound a 
sleep as that generous Saxon beverage could procure. 

Muttering an indignant censure on her sloth and indifference, 
Rose caught, from the empty couch which had been destined for 
her own use the upper covering, and dragging it with her into 
the inner anteroom, disposed it so as, va\h the assistance of the 
rushes which strewed that apartment, to form a sort of couch 
upon which, half seated, half rechned, she resolved to pass the 
night in as close attendance upon her mistress as circumstances 
permitted. _ 

Thus seated, her eye on the pale planet which sailed in full 
glory through the blue sky of midnight, she proposed to herself 
that sleep should not visit her eyelids till the dawn of morning 
should assm^e her of Evehne's safety. 

Her thoughts, meanwhile, rested on the boundless and 
shadowy world beyond the grave, and on the great and perhaps 
yet undecided question, whether the separation of its inhabitants 



176 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

from those of this temporal sphere is absolute and decided, or 
whether influenced by motives which we cannot appreciate, they 
continue to hold shadowy communication with those yet existing 
in earthly reahty of flesh and blood ? To have denied this, 
would, in the age of crusades and of miracles, have incurred the 
guilt of heresy ; but Rose's firm good sense led her to doubt at 
least the frequency of supernatm^al interference, and she com- 
forted herself with an opinion, contradicted, however, by her 
own involuntary starts and shudderings at every leaf which 
moved, that, in submitting to the performance of the rite im- 
posed on her, Evehne incurred no real danger, and only sac- 
rificed to an obsolete family superstition. 

As this conviction strengthened on Rose's mind, her pur- 
pose of vigilance began to decline — ^her thoughts wandered to 
objects towards which they were not directed, like sheep which 
stray beyond the charge of their shepherd — ^her eyes no longer 
brought back to her a distinct apprehension of the broad, round, 
silvery orb on which they continued to gaze. At length they 
closed, and seated on the folded mantle, her back resting against 
the wall of the apartment, and her white arms folded on her 
bosom, Rose Hammock feU fast asleep. 



EVELINE BERENGER. 

"Dare I venture to hope," continued De Lacy, without 
taking offence at the dryness of the Abbess's manner, " that 
Lady Evehne has heard this most unhappy change of circum- 
stances v^ithout emotion, — I would say, without displeasm^e ? " 

" She is the daughter of a Berenger, my lord," answered the 
Abbess, " and it is our custom to punish a breach of faith, or to 
contemn it — ^never to grieve over it. What my niece may do 
in this case I know not. I am a woman of religion, sequestered 
from the world, and would advise peace and Christian forgive- 
ness, with a proper sense of contempt for the unworthy treat- 
ment which she has received. She has followers and vassals, 
and friends, doubtless, and advisers, who may not, in blinded 
zeal for worldly honor, recommend to her to sit down slightly 
with this injury, but desire she should rather appeal to the king, 
or to the arms of her father's followers, unless her liberty is re- 
stored to her by the surrender of the contract into which she has 
been enticed. But she comes, to answer for herself." 

Eveline entered at the moment, leaning on Hose's arm. She 
had laid aside mourning since the ceremony of the fancailles, 
and was dressed in a kirtle of white, with an upper robe of pale 
23 



17S THE WAYEELEY GALLERY. 

blue. Her head was covered with a veil of white gauze, so thin 
as to float about her hke the misty cloud usually paiuted around 
the countenance of a seraph. But the face of Eveline, though 
in beauty not unworthy one of this angehc order, was at present 
far fi'oni resembling that of a seraph in tranquiUity of expression. 
Her limbs trembled, her cheeks were pale, the tinge of red 
around the eyehds expressed recent tears; yet amidst these 
natural sis^ns of distress and uncertaintv, there was an an- of 
profoimd resignation — a resolution to discharge her duty in 
every emergence, reigning in the solemn expression of her eye 
and eyebrow, and showing her prepared to govern the agitation 
which she could not enth'ely subdue. And so well were these 
opposing qualities of timidity and resolution mingled on her 
cheek, that Eveline, in the utmost pride of her beauty, never 
looked more fascinatino; than at that instant: and Huo:o de 
Lacy, hitherto rather an unimpassioned lover, stood in her pres- 
ence with feelino;s as if all the exascsrerations of romance were 

O CO 

realized, and his mistress were a being of a higher sphere, from 
whose doom he was to receive happiness or miseiy, life or 
death. 

It was under the influence of such a feehng that the warrior 
dropped on one knee before Eveline, took the hand which she 
rather resigned than gave to him, pressed it to his lips fen'ently, 
and, ere he parted with it, moistened it with one of the few tears 
which he was ever known to shed. But, although surprised, and 
carried out of his character by a sudden impulse, he regained his 
composm^e on obseiTing that the Abbess regarded his humiha- 
tion, if it can be so termed, with an air of triumph ; and he en- 
tered on his defence before Eveline with a manly earnestness, 
not devoid of feiTor, nor free fi'om agitation, vet made in a tone 



EYELINE BEEENGER. I79 

of firmness and pride, wMcli seemed assumed to meet and con- 
trol that of the offended Abbess. 

" Lady/' he said, addressing Evehne, " you have heard from 
the venerable Abbess in what unhappy position I have been 
placed since yesterday by the rigor of the Archbishop — perhaps 
I should rather say by his just though severe interpretation of 
my engagement in the Crusade. I cannot doubt that all this 
has been stated with accurate truth by the venerable lady ; bu^ 
as I must no longer call her my friend, let me fear whether she 
has done me justice in her commentary upon the unhappy ne- 
cessity which must presently compel me to leave my country, 
and with my country to forego — at least to postpone — -the fair- 
est hopes which man ever entertained. The venerable lady hath 
upbraided me, that being myself the cause that the execution of 
yesterday's contract is postponed, I would fain keep it suspend- 
ed over your head for an indefinite term of years. No one 
resigns willingly such rights as yesterday gave me ; and, let me 
speak a boastful word, sooner than yield them up to man of 
woman born, I would hold a fair field against all comers, with 
girded sword and sharp spear, from sunrise to sunset, for three 
days' space. But what I would retain at the price of a thousand 
lives, I am willing to renounce if it would cost you a single sigh. 
If, therefore, you think you cannot remain happy as the betrothed 
of De Lacy, you may command my assistance to have the 
contract annulled, and make some more fortunate man 
happy." 

He would have gone on, but felt the danger of being over- 
powered again by those feelings of tenderness so new to his 
steady nature, that he blushed to give way to them. 

Eveline remained silent. The Abbess took the word. 



1<^Q THE WAVERLZY GALLEEY. 

" KinsTvomaii/'' slie said, '•you hear tliat tlie generosity, or 
the justice of the Constable of Chester, proposes, in consequence 
of his departure upon a distant and perilous expedition, to can- 
cel a contract entered into upon the specific and precise under- 
standiQo: that he was to remain in Encrland for its fulfilment. 
You cannot, methinks, hesitate to accept of the freedom which 
he offers you, with thanks for his bounty. For my part, I will 
reseiTe mine own until I shall see that yom- joint apphcation is 
sufficient to win to your pm-pose his Grace of Canterbury, who 
may again interfere with the actions of his friend the Lord Con- 
stable, over whom he has ah-eady exerted so much influence — 
for the weal, doubtless, of his spiritual concerns.'' 

" If it is meant by your words, venerable lady," said the 
Constable, '•' that I have any purpose of sheltering myself behind 
the Prelate's authority, to avoid doiQg that which I proclaim my 
readiaess, though not my wiOingness, to do, I can only say, that 
you are the first who has doubted the faith of Hugh de Lacy." 
And while the proud Baron thus addressed a female and a re- 
cluse, he could not prevent his eye from sparkling and his cheek 
fi-om flushing. 

'* Mv srracious and venerable kinswoman," said Evehne, sum- 
monins: toorether her resolution, " and vou, mv sood lord, be 
not ofiended, if I pray you not to increase by groundless suspi- 
cions and hastv resentments vour difficulties and mine. Mv 
lord, the obhgations which I he under to you are such as I can 
never discharge, since they comprehend fortune, life, and honor. 
Know that, in my anguish of mind, when besieged by the 
Welsh in my castle of the Garde Doloureuse, I vowed to the 
Virgin, that (my honor safe) I would place myseK at the dispo- 
sal of him whom our Lady should employ as her instrument to 
relieve me fi*om vonder hour of aoronv. In dvinor me a deliv- 



EVELINE BERENGER. lg][ 

erer, she gave me a master ; nor could I desire a more noble 
one than Hugo de Lacy." 

" God forbid, lady," said the Constable, speaking eagerly, 
as if he was afraid his resolution should fail him ere he could 
get the renunciation uttered, " that I should, by such a tie, to 
which you subjected yourself in the extremity of your distress, 
bind you to any resolution in my favor which can put force on 
your own inclinations ! " 

The Abbess herself could not help expressing her applause 
of this sentiment, declaring it was spoken like a Norman gen- 
tleman ; but, at the same time, her eyes, turned towards her 
niece, seemed to exhort her to beware how she declined to profit 
by the candor of De Lacy. 

But Eveline proceeded, with her eyes fixed on the ground, 
and a slight color overspreading her face, to state her own sen- 
timents, without listening to the suggestions of any one. " I 
will own, noble sir," she said, " that when your valor had res- 
cued me from approaching destruction, I could have wished — 
honoring and respecting you as I had done your late friend — 
my excellent father — ^that you could have accepted a daughter's 
service from me. I do not pretend entirely to have surmounted 
these sentiments, although I have combated them, as being un- 
worthy of me, and ungrateful to you. But, from the moment 
you were pleased to honor me by a claim on this poor hand, I 
have studiously examined my sentiments towards you, and 
taught myself so far to make them coincide with my duty, that 
I may call myself assured that De Lacy would not find in Eve- 
line Berenger an indifferent, far less an unworthy bride. Li 
this, sir, you may boldly confide, whether the union you have 
sought for takes place instantly, or is delayed till a longer sea- 
son. Stil? farther, I must acknowledge that the postponement 



132 THE WAYEELEY GAELEET. 

of these nuptials mil be more agreeable to me tliau tlieii' imme- 
diate accomplishment. I am at present veiy young, and totally 
inexperienced. Two or three yeai's will, I trust, render me yet 
more worthy the regard of a man of honor.'"' 

At this declaration in his favor, however cold and quahfied, 
De Lacy had as much difficulty to restrain his transports as 
formerlv to moderate his agitation. 



QUEEN BERENGARIA. 

The high-born Berengaria, daughter of Sanchez, King of 
Navarre, and the Queen-Consort of the heroic Richard, was ac- 
counted one of the most beautiful women of the period. Her 
form was shght, though exquisitely moulded. She was graced 
with a complexion not common in her country, a profusion of 
fair hair, and features so extremely juvenile, as to make her look 
several years younger than she really was, though in reahty she 
was not above one-and-twenty. Perhaps it was under the con- 
sciousness of this extremely juvenile appearance, that she affected, 
or at least practised, a little childish petulance, and wilfulness 
of manner, not unbefitting, she might suppose, a youthful bride, 
whose rank and age gave her a right to have her fantasies in- 
dulged and attended to. She was by nature perfectly good- 
humored, and if her due share of admiration and homage (in her 
opinion a very large one) was duly resigned to her, no one could 
possess better temper, or a more friendly disposition ; but then, 
like all despots, the more power that was voluntarily yielded to 
her, the more she desired to extend her sway. Sometimes, 
even when all her ambition was gratified, she chose to be a 
little out of health, and a little out of spirits ; and physicians 



1^4 THE WAYITJLET GAIXEBT. 

liad to toil their wits to invent names for imaginaiy maladies, 
while her ladies la^ed their imaghiation for new games, new 
head-gear, and new conrt-scandal, to pass away those unpleasant 
honis, during which their own situation was scarce to be greatlv 
envied. Their most fireqaent lesonrce for divertiDg this malady, 
was some trick, or piece of mischief, practised upon each other ; 
and the good qaeen, in the bnoyancy of her reviving spirits, 
was, to speak truth, rather too indifferent whether the froKcs 
thus practised were entirdj befitting her own dignity, or whether 
the pain which those suffered upon whom thev were inflicted, 
was not beyond the proportion of pleasure which she herself 
derived finom them. She was confident in her husband's fevor, 
in her high rank, and in her supposed power to make good what- 
ever such pranks might cost others. In a word, she gambolled 
with the fiieedom of a young Honess, who is unconscious of the 
weight of her own paws when laid on those whom she sports 
with. 

The monarch was lying on his couch, and at some distance, 
as awaiting his farther commands, stood a man whose profes- 
sion it was not difficult to conjecture. He was clothed in a 
jerkin of red doth, which reached scantly below the shoulders, 
leavins^ the arms bare finom about half-wav above the elbow, 
and, as an upper garment, he wore, when about as at present to 
betake himself to his dreadfol office, a coat or tabard without 
sleeves, sciniething like that of a herald, made of dressed bull's 
hide, and stained in the finont with many a broad spot and 
speckle of duU crimson. A cap of rough shag served to hide 
the upper part of a visage, which, like that of a screech-owl, 
seemed desirous to conceal itself fi-om hght — the lower part of 
the face being obscured by a huge red beard, mingling with 
shaggy locks of the same color. This official leant on a sword. 



QUEEN BERENGARIA. ^ 3^35 

the blade of which was nearly four feet and a half in length, 
while the handle of twenty inches, surrounded by a ring of lead 
plummets to counterpoise the weight of such a blade, rose con- 
siderably above the man's head, as he rested his arm upon its 
hilt, waiting for King Richard's farther directions. 

On the sudden entrance of the ladies, Richard, who was 
then lying on his couch, with his face towards the entrance, and 
resting on his elbow as he spoke to his grisly attendant, flung 
himself hastily, as if displeased and surprised, to the other side, 
turning his back to the queen and the females of her train, and 
drawing around him the covering of his couch, which, by his own 
choice, or more probably the flattering selection of his chamber- 
lains, consisted of two large lions' skins, dressed in Venice with 
such admirable skifl, that they seemed softer than the hide of 
the deer. 

Berengaria knew well — ^what woman knows not ? — ^her own 
road to victory. After a hurried glance of undisguised and un- 
affected terror at the ghastly companion of her husband's secret 
councils, she rushed at once to the side of Richard's couch, 
dropped on her knees, flung her mantle from her shoulder, show- 
ing, as they hung down at their full length, her beautiful golden 
tresses, and while her countenance seemed like the sun bursting 
through a cloud, yet bearing on its pallid front traces that its 
splendors haye been obscured, she seized upon the right hand 
of the king, which, as he assumed his wonted posture, had been 
employed in dragging the covering of his couch, and gradually 
pulling it to her with a force which was resisted, though but 
faintly, she possessed herself of that arm, the prop of Christen- 
dom, and the dread of Heathenesse, and imprisoning its strength 
in both her little fairy hands, she bent upon it her brow, and 
united to it her lips. 
24 



15(3 , THE WAVEELEY GALLERY. 

"What needs this, Berengaria?" said Hichard, his head 
still averted, but his hand remaining under her control. 

" Send away that man^his look kills me ! " muttered 
Berengaria. 

" Begone, sirrah," said Richard, still without looking 
round — "What wait'st thou for? art thou fit to look on these 
ladies?" 

" Your Highness's pleasure touching the head," said the 
man. 

" Out with thee, dog ! " answered Richard — " a Christian 
burial." 

The man disappeared, after casting a look upon the beauti- 
ful Queen, in her deranged dress and natural lovehness, with a 
smile of admiration more hideous in its expression than even 
his usual scowl of cynical hatred against humanity. 

"And now, foolish wench, what wishest thou?" said 
Richard, turning slowly and half reluctantly round to his royal 
suppliant. 

But it was not in nature for any one, far less an admirer of 
beauty Hke Richard, to whom it stood only in the second rank 
to glory, to look without emotion on the countenance and the 
tremor of a creature so beautiful as Berengaria, or to feel, 
without sympathy, that her lips, her brow, were on his hand, 
and that it was wetted by her tears. By degrees he turned on 
her his manly countenance, with the softest expression of which 
his large blue eye, which so often gleamed with insufierable 
hght, was capable. Caressing her fair head, and mingling his 
large fingers in her beautiful and dishevelled locks, he raised 
and tenderly kissed the cherub countenance which seemed de- 
sirous to hide itself in his hand. The robust form, the broad, 
noble brow, and majestic looks3 the naked arm and shoulder, 



QUEEN BEEENGAEIA. ^gr' 

the lions' skins among whicli he lay, and the fair, fragile, femi- 
nine creatm-e that kneeled by his side, might have served for a 
model of Hercules reconcihng himself, after a quarrel, to his 
wife Dejanira. 

" And, once more, what seeks the lady of my heart in her 
knight's pavihon, at this unwonted hour ? " 

"Pardon, my most gracious liege, pardon!" said the 
Queen, whose fears began again to unfit her for the duty of in- 
tercessor. 

" Pardon ! for what ? " asked the King. 

" First, for entering your royal presence too boldly and un- 
advisedly " — 

She stopped. 

''Thou too boldly ! — the sun might as well ask pardon 
because his rays entered the windows of some wretch's dun- 
geon. But I was busied with work unfit for thee to witness, 
my gentle one, and I was unwilling, besides, that thou shouldst 
risk thy precious health where sickness has been so lately rife." 

" But thou art now well ? " said the Queen, still delaying 
the communication which she feared to make. 

" Well enough to break a lance on the bold crest of that 
champion who shall refuse to acknowledge thee the fairest dame 
in Christendom." 

" Thou wilt not then refuse me one boon — only one — only a 
poor life?" 

" Ha ! — proceed," said Bichard, bending his brows. 

" This unhappy Scottish knight," murmured the Queen. 

" Speak not of him, madam," exclaimed Bichard, sternly ; 
" he dies — ^his doom is fixed." 

" Nay, my royal liege and love, 'tis but a silken banner 
neglected. — Berengaria will give thee another, broidered with 



I5S TEE ^AVEELET GAEEEET. 

lier own hand, and ricli as ever dallied with the wind. Every 
pearl I have shall go to bedeck it, and with every pearl I will 
drop a tear of thankfulness to my generous knight ! " 

" Awav, awav/'' cried the Kins:, '•' the sun has risen on the 
dishonor of England, and it is not yet avenged. Withdraw, if 
ye would not hear orders which would displease you : for, by St. 
Georse, I swear " — 

" Swear not ! '"' said the voice of one who had just then 
entered the pavilion. 

" Ha I my learned Hakim," said the King : " come. I hope, 
to tax our generosity." 

" I come to request iostant speech with you — ^iostant — and 
touching matters of deep interest." 

*•' Eirst look on mv wife. Hakim, and let her know in vou 
the preserver of her husband." 

'•'It is not for me," said the physician, bending his eyes on 
the ground — ■'"' it is not for me to look upon beauty unveiled, 
and armed in its splendors." 

'•' Eetire, then, Berengaria," said the monarch ; '*' and Edith, 
do you retire also ; — ^nay, renew not your importunities 1 This 
I give to them, that the execution shall not be till high noon. 
Go and be pacified — dearest Berengaria, begone." 







Mew York. D. Applet an & Co. 



ALICE LEE. 

" Ah ! Alice Lee — so sweet, so gentle, so condescending in 
thy loveliness — [tlius proceeds a contemporary annalist, wliose 
manuscript we have deciphered] — ^why is my story to turn upon 
thy fallen fortunes ? and why not rather to the period when, in 
the very dismounting from yom^ palfrey, you attracted as many 
eyes as if an angel had descended, — as many blessings as if the 
benignant being had come fraught with good tidings? No 
creature wert thou of an idle romancer's imagination — ^no being 
fantastically bedizened with inconsistent perfections ; — thy merits 
made me love thee well — and for thy faults — so wxll did they 
show amid thy good qualities, that I think they made me love 
thee better." 

Sir Henry Lee sat in a wicker arm-chair by the fire. He 
was wrapped in a cloak, and his limbs extended on a stool, as 
if he were suffering from gout or indisposition. His long white 
beard flowing over the dark-colored garment, gave him more the 
appearance of a hermit than of an aged soldier or man of quahty ; 
and that character was increased by the deep and devout atten- 
tion with which he listened to a respectable old man, whose 
dilapidated dress showed still something of the clerical habit, 



190 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

and who, mth a low, but full and deep voice, was reading the 
Evening Service according to the Church of England. Alice 
Lee kneeled at the feet of her father, and made the responses 
with a voice that might have suited the choir of angels, and a 
modest and serious devotion, which suited the melody of her 
tone. 

When Colonel Everard entered, the clergyman raised his 
finger, as cautioning him to forbear disturbing the divine service 
of the evening, and pointed to a seat ; to which, struck deeply 
with the scene he had witnessed, the intruder stole with as light 
a step as possible, and knelt devoutly down as one of the little 
congregation. 

Everard had been bred by his father what was called a 
Puritan ; a member of a sect who, in the primitive sense of the 
word, were persons that did not except against the doctrines of 
the Church of England, or even in all respects against its hierarchy. 

Yet deep as was the habitual veneration with which he heard 
the impressive service of the Church, Everard's eyes could not 
help straying towards Alice, and his thoughts wandering to the 
purpose of his presence there. She seemed to have recognized 
him at once, for there was a deeper glow than usual upon her 
cheek, her fingers trembled as they turned the leaves of her 
prayer-book, and her voice, lately as firm as it was melodious, 
faltered when she repeated the responses. It appeared to 
Everard, as far as he could collect by the stolen glances which 
he directed towards her, that the character of her beauty, as 
well as of her outward appearance, had changed with her for- 
tunes. 

The beautiful and high-born young lady had now approached 
as nearly as possible to the brown stuff dress of an ordinary 
village maiden ; but what she had lost in gayety of appearance, 



ALICE LEE. 19] 

she had gained as it seemed in dignity. Her beautiful light- 
brown tresses, now folded around her head, and only curled 
where nature had so arranged them, gave her an air of simplicity, 
which did not exist when her head-dress showed the skill of a 
curious tire-woman. A light joyous air^ with something of a 
humorous expression, which seemed to be looking for amuse- 
ment, had vanished before the touch of affliction, and a calm 
melancholy supplied its place, which seemed on the watch to 
administer comfort to others. Perhaps the former arch, though 
innocent expression of countenance, was uppermost in her 
lover's recollection, when he concluded that Alice had acted a 
part in the disturbances which had taken place at the Lodge. It 
is certain, that when he now looked upon her^ it was with shame 
for having nourished such a suspicion, and the resolution to be- 
lieve rather that the devil had imitated her voice, than that a 
creature, who seemed so much above the feelings of this world, 
and so nearly allied to the purity of the next, should have had 
the indelicacy to mingle in such manoeuvres as he himself and 
others had been subjected to. 

These thoughts shot through his mind, in spite of the im- 
propriety of indulging them at such a moment. The service 
now approached the close ; and a good deal to Colonel Everard's 
surprise as well as confusion, the officiating priest, in firm and 
audible tone,- and with every attribute of dignity, prayed to the 
Almighty to bless and preserve "Our Sovereign Lord, King 
Charles, the lawful and undoubted Kmg of these realms." The 
petition (in those days most dangerous) was pronounced with a 
full, raised, and distinct articulation, as if the priest challenged 
all who heard him to dissent if they dared. If the repubhcan 
officer did not assent to the petition, he thought at least it was 
no time to protest against it. 



1^2 THE -WAYEELEY GALLERY. 

The service was concluded in the usual manner, and Colonel 
Jiverard, approaching his uncle's seat, made a deep inclination 
of respect, first to Sii' Hemy Lee, and then to Ahce, whose 
color now spread from her cheek to her brow and bosom. 

'• I have to crave yoiu^ excuse," said the Colonel with hesi- 
tation, " for having chosen for my visit, which I dare not hope 
would be very agreeable at any time, a season most peculiarly 
unsuitable.'"' 

" So far fi'om it, nephew," answered Sii' Henry, with much 
more mildness of manner than Everard had dared to expect, 
'•' that yom' visits at other times would be much more welcome, 
had we the fortune to see you often at our hom^s of worship. 
But it was, I ween, not to settle jarring creeds, that you 
have honored om' poor dwelling, where, to say the truth, we 
dared scarce have expected to see you again, so coarse was our 
last welcome." 

" I should be happy to beheve," said Colonel Everard, hesi- 
tating, " that — that — in short my presence was not now so un- 
welcome here as on that occasion." 

" Xephew," said Sii' Hemy, " I will be fi'ank vdxh you. 
T\lien you were last here, I thought you had stolen from me a 
precious pearl, which at one time it would have been my pride 
and happiness to have bestowed on you ; but which, being such 
as you have been of late, I would bmy in the depths of the 
earth rather than give to youi' keeping. This somewhat chafed, 
as honest Will says, ' the rash humor which my mother gave 
me.' I thought I was robbed, and I thought I saw the robber 
before me. I am mistaken. — I am not robbed ; and the attempt 
without the deed I can pardon." 

" I would not wilhngly seek offence in your words, sii'," 
said Colonel Everard, " when their general purport sounds kind; 



ALICE LEE. 



193 



but I can protest before Heaven, that my views and wishes to- 
wards you and your family are as void of selfish hopes and selfish 
ends, as they are fraught with love to you and to yours." 

" Sir, if I retract my opinion, which is not my wont, you 
shall hear of it. — And now, cousin, have you more to say ? We 
keep that worthy clergyman in the outer room." 

" Something I had to say — something touching my cousin 
Alice," said Everard, with embarrassment ; " but I fear that the 
prejudices of both are so strong against me " 

" Sir, I dare turn my daughter loose to you — I will go join 
the good doctor in dame Joan's apartment. I am not un- 
willing that you should know that the girl hath, in all reasonable 
sort, the exercise of her free will." 

He withdrew and left the cousins together. 

Colonel Everard advanced to Alice, and was about to take 
her hand. She drew back, took the seat which her father had 
occupied, and pointed out to him one at some distance. 

" Are we then so much estranged, my dearest Ahce ? " 
he said. 

" We will speak of that presently," she replied. " In the first 
place, let me ask the cause of your visit here at so late an hour." 

" You heard," said Everard, "what I stated to your father?" 

" I did ; but that seems to have been only part of your 
errand — something there seemed to be which apphed particu- 
larly to me." 

" It was a fancy — a strange mistake," answered Everard. 
" May I ask if you have been abroad this evening ? " 

" Certainly not," she replied. '' I have small temptation to 
wander from my present home, poor as it is ; and whilst here, I 
have important duties to discharge. But why does Colonel 
Everard ask so strange a question ? " 
25 



194 



WAVEPJJEY GALLERY. 



" Tell me in turn, why vonr cousin Martham has lost the 
name of fiiendship and kindred, and even of some nearer feeling, 
and then I will answer yon, AHce." 

" It is soon answered," she said. " When you drew your 
sword against my father's cause — ^almost against his person — ^I 
studied, more than I should have done, to find excuse for you. 
I knew, that is, I thought I knew, your high feelings of pubHc 
duty — ^I knew the opinions in which you had been bred up ; 
and I saii I will not even for this cast him off — he opposes 
his King because he is loyal to his country. You endeavored 
to avert the great and concluding tragedy of the 30th of January ; 
and it confirmed me in my opinion, that Markham Zeiirl 
might been misled, but could not be base or selfish." 

** And what has changed your opinion, Alice ? or who dare," 
said Everard, reddening, " attach such epithets to the name of 
Markham Everard r " 

" I am no subject," she said, '* for exercising your valor. 
Colonel Everard, nor do I mean to offend. But you wQl find 
enough of others who wfll avow, that Colonel Everard is truck- 
ling to the usurper Cromwell, and that all his fair pretexts of 
forwarding his country's liberties are but a screen for driying a 
bai^ain with the successful encroacher, and obtaining the best 
terms he can for himself and his famity." 

" Tor myself ?— Xever ! " 

" But for your family you have. — ^Tes, I am well assured 
that you have pointed out to the mihtaiy tyrant the way in 
which he and his satraps may master the government. Do 
you think my father or I would accept an asylum purchased at 
the price of England's hberty, and your honor? " 

" Gracious Heaven, Alice, what is this ? You accuse me of 
pursuing the very course which so lately had your approbation ! " 



ALICE LEE. 



195 



" When you spoke with authority of your father, and rec- 
ommended our submission to the existing government, such as 
it was, I own I thought that my father's gray head might, 
without dishonor, have remained under the roof where it had so 
long been sheltered. But did your father sanction your be- 
coming the adviser of yonder ambitious soldier to a new course 
of innovation, and his abettor in the estabhshment of a new 
species of tyranny ? — It is one thing to submit to oppression, 
another to be the agent of tyrants.' — And oh, Markham — ^their 
bloodhound ! " 

" How ! bloodhound ? — what mean you ? — I own it is true 
I could see with content the wounds of this bleeding country 
stanched, even at the expense of beholding Cromwell, after his 
matchless rise, take a yet further step to power — ^but to be his 
bloodhound ! What is your meaning? " 

" It is false, then ? — Ah, I thought I could swear it had 
been false ? " 

" What, in the name of God, is it you ask ? " 

"It is false that you are engaged to betray the young 
King of Scotland?" 

" Betray him ! / betray him, or any fugitive ? Never ! I 
would he were well out of England — ^I would lend him my aid 
to escape, were he in the house at this instant ; and think in 
acting so I "did his enemies good service, by preventing their 
soiling themselves with his blood — ^but betray him, never ! " 

"I knew it — I was sure it was impossible. Oh, be yet 
more honest ; disengage yourself from yonder gloomy and am- 
bitious soldier ! Shun him and his schemes, which are formed 
in injustice, and can only be reahzed in yet more blood ! '* 

" Believe me," replied Everard, " that I choose the line of 
policy best befitting the times." 



j^96 THE -WAYERLEY GALLEET. 

" Choose that/' she said, " which best befits duty, Markham 
— which best befits truth and honor. Do your duty, and let 
Providence decide the rest. — Farewell! we tempt my father's 
patience too far — ^you know liis temper — farewell, Markham/' 

She extended her hand, which he pressed to his lips, and 
left the apartment, 




illliilfclllllllillilliliSlllllKlliliHlffll 



y ^^^ oyM^^y/^z^ 



WlVPJiU'.Y GAI.l.r.UY. 



•Um M/JTD OF l'l:l'. 



THE GLEE-MAIDEN. 

Fair is the damsel, passing fair — 
Sunny at distance gleams her smile : 
Approach — the cloud of woeful care 
Hangs trembling in her eye the while. 

LuciNDA, a Ballad, 

The glee-maiden had planted herself where a rise of two 
large broad steps, giving access to the main gateway of the 
royal apartments, gained her an advantage of a foot and a half 
in height over those in the court, of whom she hoped to form an 
audience. She wore the dress of her calling, which was more 
gaudy than rich, and showed the person more than did the 
garb of other females. She had laid aside an upper mantle, 
and a small basket which contained her slender stock of neces- 
saries, and a'little Prench spaniel dog sat beside them, as their 
protector. An azure-blue jacket, embroidered with silver, and 
sitting close to the person, was open in front, and showed several 
waistcoats of different-colored silks, calculated to set off the 
symmetry of the shoulders and bosom, and remaining open at 
the throat. A small silver chain worn around her neck, involved 
itself amongst these brilliant-colored waistcoats, and was again 
produced from them, to display a medal of the same metal, 



]^gg THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

which intimated, in the name of some court or guild of min- 
strels, the degree she had taken in the Gay or Joyous Science. 
A small scrip, suspended over her shoulders by a blue silk ribbon, 
hung on her left side. 

Her sunny complexion, snow-white teeth, brilliant black 
eyes, and raven locks, marked her country lying far in the south 
of Prance, and the arch smile and dimpled chin bore the same 
character. Her luxuriant raven locks, twisted around a small 
gold bodkin, were kept in their position by a net of silk and 
gold. Short petticoats, deep-laced with silver, to correspond 
with the jacket, red stockings which were visible so high as 
near the calf of the leg, and buskins of Spanish leather, com- 
pleted her adjustment, which, though far from new, had been 
saved as an untarnished holiday suit, which much care had kept 
in good order. She seemed about twenty-five years old ; but 
perhaps fatigue and wandering had anticipated the touch of time, 
in obliterating the freshness of early youth. 

We have said the glee-maiden's manner was lively, and we 
may add, that her smile and repartee were ready. But her 
gayety was assumed, as a quality essentially necessary to her 
trade, of which it was one of the miseries, that the professors 
were obHged frequently to cover an aching heart with a com- 
pelled smile. This seemed to be the case with Louise, who, 
whether she was really the heroine of her own song, or whatever 
other cause she might have for sadness, showed at times a strain 
of deep melancholy thought, which interfered with and con- 
trolled the natural flow of lively spirits, which the practice of 
the Joyous Science especially required. She lacked also, even 
in her gayest sallies, the decided boldness and effrontery of her 
sisterhood, who were seldom at a loss to retort a saucy jest, or turn 
the laugh against any who interrupted or interfered with them. 



THE GLEE-MAIDEN. I99 

It may be here remarked, that it was impossible that this 
class of women, very numerous in that age, could bear a char- 
acter generally respectable. They were, however, protected by 
the manners of the time ; and such were the immunities they 
possessed by the rights of chivalry, that nothing was more rare 
than to hear of such errant damsels sustaining injury or wrong, 
and they passed and repassed safely, where armed travellers 
would probably have encountered a bloody opposition. But 
though licensed and protected in honor of their tuneful art, the 
wandering minstrels, male or female, like similar ministers to 
the public amusement, the itinerant musicians, for instance, and 
strolling comedians of our own day, led a life too irregular and 
precarious, to be accounted a creditable part of society. Indeed, 
among the stricter Catholics, the profession was considered as 
unlawful. 

Such was the damsel, who, with viol in hand, and stationed 
on the slight elevation we have mentioned, stepped forward to 
the bystanders and announced herself as a mistress of the Gay 
Science, duly qualified by a brief from a Court of Love and 
Music held at Aix, in Provence, under the countenance of the 
flower of chivalry, the gallant Count Aymer ; who now prayed 
that the cavaliers of merry Scotland, who were known over the 
wide world for bravery a,nd courtesy, would permit a poor 
stranger to try whether she could aff'ord them any amusement by 
her art.— The love of song was, like the love of fight, a common 
passion of the age, which all at least affected, whether they were 
actually possessed by it or no ; therefore the acquiescence in 
Louise's proposal was universal. At the same time, an aged, 
dark-browed monk, who was among the bystanders, thought it 
necessary to remind the glee-maiden, that, since she was tolerated 
within these precincts, which was an unusual grace, he trusted 



200 THE TVAYERLEY GALLERY. 

nothing would be sung or said inconsistent with the holy char- 
acter of the place. 

The glee-maiden bent her head low, shook her sable locks, 
and crossed herself reverentially, as if she disclaimed the pos- 
sibility of such a transgression, and then began the song. The 
tune, which was played upon a viol, was gay and sprightly in 
the commencement, with a touch of the wildness of the Trouba- 
dour music. But as it proceeded, the faltering tones of the in- 
strument, and of the female voice which accompanied it, became 
plaintive and interrupted, as if choked by the painful feehngs of 
the minstrel. The song was in the Provengal dialect, well 
understood as the language of poetry in all the courts of Europe, 
and particularly in Scotland. It was more simply trnned, how- 
ever, than was the general caste of the Sirventes, and rather re- 
sembled the lai of a Norman Minstrel. It may be translated 
thus : 

THE LAY OF POOR LOUISE. 

All, poor Louise I The livelong day 
She roams from cot to castle gay ; 
And still her voice and viol say, 
Ah, maids, beware the woodland way, 

Think on Louise. 

Ah, poor Louise ! The sun was high, 
It smirch' d her cheek, it ditnm'd her eye, 
The woodland walk was cool and nigh, 
"Where birds with chiming streamlets ^^ie 

To cheer Louise. 

Ah, poor Louise ! The savage bear 
Made ne'er that lovely grove his lair ; 
The wolves molest not paths so fair — 
But better far had such been there 

For poor Louise. 



THE GLEE-MAIDEK 201 

Ah, poor Louise ! In woody wold 
She met a huntsman fair and bold ; 
His baldrick was of silk and gold, 
And many a witching tale he told 

To poor Louise. 

Ah, poor Louise ! Small cause to pine 
Hadst thou for treasures of the miue ; 
For peace of mind, that gift divine, 
And spotless innocence, were thine. 

Ah, poor Louise. 

Ah, poor Louise ! Thy treasure's reft ! 
I know not if by force or theft, 
Or part by violence, part by gift ; 
But misery is all that's left 

To poor Louise. 

Let poor Louise some succor have ! 
She will not long your bounty crave. 
Or tire the gay with warning stave— 
For Heaven has grace, and earth a grave 

For poor Louise. 

Just as slie commenced, was heard a cry of " Koom — room — 
place for the Duke of Eothsay ! " 

" Nay, hurry no man on my score," said a gallant young 
cavalier, who entered on a noble Arabian horse, which he 
managed with exquisite grace, though by such slight handling 
of the reins, such imperceptible pressure of the limbs and sway 
of the body, that to any eye save that of an experienced horse- 
man, the animal seemed to be putting forth his paces for his 
own amusement, and thus gracefully bearing forward a rider 
who was too indolent to give himself any trouble about the 
matter. 

The Prince's apparel, which was very rich, was put on with 
26 



202 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

slovenly carelessness. His form, thougli Ms stature was low, 
and his limbs extremely slight, was elegant in the extreme ; and 
his featm'es no less handsome. But there was on his brow a 
haggard paleness, which seemed the effect of care or of dissipa- 
tion, or of both these wasting causes combmed. His eyes were 
sunk and dim, as from late indulgence in revehy on the preced- 
ing evening, while his cheek was inflamed with unnatural red, 
as if either the effect of the Bacchanalian orgies had not passed 
away from the constitution, or a morning draught had been 
resorted to, in order to remove the effects of the night's de- 
bauchery. 

Such was the Duke of Rothsay, and heir of the Scottish 
crown, a sight at once of interest and compassion. All un- 
bonneted, and made way for him, while he kept repeating care- 
lessly, " No haste — ^no haste. — I shall arrive soon enough at the 
place I am bound for. — How's tliis — ^a damsel of the Joyous 
Science ? Ay, by St. Giles ! and a comely wench to boot. 
Stand still, my merry men ; never was minstrelsy marred for 
me. — A good voice, by the mass ! Begin me that lay again, 
sweetheart." 

Louise did not know the person who addressed her ; but the 
general respect paid by all around, and the easy and indifferent 
manner in which it was received, showed her she was addressed 
by a man of the highest quality. She recommenced her lay, and 
sung her best accordingly ; while the young Duke seemed 
thoughtful and rather affected towards the close of the ditty. 
But it was not his habit to cherish such melancholy affections. 
" This is a plaintive ditty, my nut-brown maid," said he, chuck- 
ing the retreating glee-maiden under the chin, and detaining her 
by the collar of her dress, which Avas not difficult, as he sat on 
horseback so close to the steps on which she stood. " But 1 



THE GLEE-MAIDEN. 203 

warrant me you have livelier notes at will, ma hella tenehrosa ; 
ay, and canst sing in bower as well as wold, and by night as 
well as day." 

" I am no nightingale, my lord," said Louise, endeavoring 
to escape a species of gallantry which ill-suited the place and 
circumstances, a discrepancy to which he who addressed it to 
her seemed contemptuously indifferent. 

" What hast thou there, darling ? " he added, removing his 
hold from her collar, to the scrip which she carried. 

Glad was Louise to escape his grasp, by slipping the knot 
of her ribbon, and leaving the little bag in the Prince's hand, 
as, retiring back, beyond his reach, she answered, " Nuts, my 
lord, of the last season." 

The Prince pulled out a handful of nuts accordingly. " Nuts, 
child ! — they will break thine ivory teeth — ^hurt thy pretty 
voice," said Rothsay, cracking one with his teeth, like a village 
schoolboy. 

" They are not the walnuts of my own sunny clime, my lord," 
said Louise ; " but they hang low, and are within the reach of 
the poor." 

" You shall have something to afford you better fare, poor 
wandering ape," said the Duke, in a tone in which feehng pre- 
dominated more than in the affected and contemptuous gallantry 
of his first address to the glee-maiden. 

At this moment, as he turned to ask an attendant for his 
purse, the Prince encountered the stern and piercing look of a 
tall black man, seated on a powerful iron-gray horse, who had 
entered the court with attendants while the Duke of Rothsay 
was engaged with Louise, and now remained stupefied and 
almost turned to stone by his surprise and anger at this un- 
seemly spectacle. Even one who had never seen Archibald, Earl 



204 THE WAVEELEY GALLEEY. 

of Douglas, called the Grim, must have known him by his swart 
complexion, his gigantic frame, his buff-coat of bull's hide, and 
his air of courage, firmness, and sagacity, mixed with indomitable 
pride. The loss of an eye in battle, though not perceptible at 
first sight, as the ball of the injured organ remained similar to 
the other, gave yet a stern immovable glare to the whole aspect. 

The meeting of the royal son-in-law with his terrible step- 
father, was in circinnstances which arrested the attention of all 
present ; and the bystanders waited the issue with silence and 
suppressed breath, lest they should lose any part of what was 
to ensue. 

When the Duke of Rothsay saw the expression which oc- 
cupied the stern features of Douglas, and remarked that the 
Earl did not make the least motion towards respectful, or even 
civil salutation, he seemed determined to show him how little re- 
spect he was disposed to pay to his displeased looks. He took 
his purse from his chamberlain. 

" Here, pretty one," he said, " I give thee one gold piece 
for the song thou hast sung me, another for the nuts I have 
stolen from thee, and a third for the kiss thou art about to give 
me. For know, my pretty one, that when fair lips (and thine, 
for fault of better, may be called so) make sweet music for my 
pleasure, I am sworn to St. Valentine to press them to mine." 

" My song is recompensed nobly " — said Louise, shrinking 
back ; " my nuts are sold to a good market — farther traffic, my 
lord, were neither befitting you nor beseeming me." 

" What ! you coy it, my n}Tnph of the highway ? " said the 
Prince, contemptuously. '' Know, damsel, that one asks you 
a grace who is unused to denial." 

" It is the Prince of Scotland "— " the Duke of Rothsay,"— 
said the courtiers around, to the terrified Louise, pressing for- 



THE GLEE-MAIDEN. 205 

ward tlie trembling young woman ; " you must not thwart his 
humor." 

" But I cannot reach your lordship," she said timidly, "you 
sit so high on horseback." 

" If I must alight," said Rothsay, " there shall be the heavier 
penalty^ — What does the wench tremble for ? Place thy foot on 
the toe of my boot, give me hold of thy hand — Gallantly done ! " 
He kissed her as she stood thus suspended in the air, perched 
upon his foot, and supported by his hand ; saying, " There is 
thy kiss, and there is my purse to pay it ; and to grace thee 
farther, Rothsay will wear the scrip for the day." He suffered 
the frightened girl to spring to the ground, and turned his looks 
from her to bend them contemptuously on the Earl of Douglas, 
as if he had said, " All this I do in despite of you and of your 
daughter's claims." 

" By St. Bride of Douglas 1 " said the Earl, pressing towards 
the Prince, " this is too much, unmannered boy, as void of sense 
as honor ! You know what considerations restrain the hand of 
Douglas, else had you never dared " ■ 

" Can you play at spang-cockle, my lord ? " said the Prince, 
placing a nut on the second joint of his forefinger, and spinning 
it off by a smart application of the thumb. The nut struck on 
Douglas's broad breast, who burst out into a dreadful exclama- 
tion of wrath, inarticulate, but resembling the growl of a lion in 
depth and sternness of expression. " I cry your pardon, most 
mighty lord," said the Duke of Rothsay, scornfully, while all 
around trembled; "I did not conceive my pellet could have 
wounded you, seeing you wear a buff-coat. Surely, I trust, it 
did not hit your eye ? " 

The Prior, despatched by the King, as we have seen in the 
last chapter, had by this time made way through the crowd, and 



206 THE WAVZP.IET OAIXERY. 

laving hold on Douglas's rein, in a manner that made it impos- 
sible for him to advance, reminded him that the Prince was the 
son of his Sovereign, and the husband of his daughter. 

Pear not. Sir Prior," said Donglas. '■ I di :^ i :ae childish 
boy too much t: r?.:5e a finger against him. Bui I will return 
insult for insulr. — Here, any of you who love the Douglas, — 
spurn me this quean from the Monastery gates ; and let her be 
so scoursjed that she mav bitterlv remember to the last dav of 
her hfe, how she gave means to an unrespective boy to affix>nt 
the Doucrlas ! " 

Four or five retainers instantly stepped forth to execute com- 
mands which were seldom uttered in vain, and heavily would 
L: lise have atoned for an offence of which she was aKke the in- 
nocent, imconscious, and unwilling instrument, had not the Duke 
of Rothsay interfered. 

" Spurn the poor glee-woman ! ''he said in high indignation ; 
" scourge her for obeying my commands I — Spurn thine own 
oppressed yassals, rude Earl — scotu-ge thine own faulty hounds 
— but beware how you touch so much as a dog that Rothsay hath 
patted on the head, far less a female whose hps he hath kissed ! " 
• Bv S:. Bride of Dourly?, I will be avenged! " said the 
Earl. •'• Xo man shall brook hfe after he has. passed an affiront 
on Douglas." 

*•' Why so you may be avenged in fitting time,"* said Albany ; 
" but let it not be said, that, like a peevish woman, the Great 
Douglas could choc^e neither time nor place for his vengeance." 

George of March, in the meanwhile, had a more easy task 
of pacifnng the Prince. " My Lord of Rothsay," he said, 
approaching him with grave ceremony, " I need not tell you that 
you owe me something for reparation of honor, though I blame 
not you personally for the breach of contract which has destroyed 



THE GLEE-MAIDEK 207 

tlie peace of my family. Let me conjm^e you by wliat obser- 
vance your Highness may owe an injured man, to forego for the 
present this scandalous dispute." 

" My lord, I owe you much," rephed Rothsay ; " but this 
haughty and all-controlling lord has wounded mine honor." 

" My lord, I can but add, your royal father is ill — ^hath 
swooned with terror for your Highness's safety." 

" 111 ! " replied the Prince ; " the kind, good old man — 
swooned, said you, my Lord of March ? — I am with him in an 
instant." 

The Duke of Rothsay sprung from his saddle to the ground, 
and was dashing into the palace like a greyhound, when a feeble 
grasp was laid on his cloak, and the faint voice of a kneeling 
female exclaimed, "Protection, my noble Prince! — ^Protection 
for a helpless stranger ! " 

" Hands off, stroller ! " said the Earl of March, thrusting 
the suppliant glee-maiden aside. 

But the gentler Prince paused. " It is true," he said, '' I 
have brought the vengeance of an unforgiving devil upon this 
helpless creature. O Heaven ! what a hfe is mine, so fatal to 
all who approach me ! — What to do in the hurry ? — She must 
not go to my apartments — And all my men are such born rep- 
robates. — Ha ! thou at mine elbow, honest Harry Smith ? 
What dost thou here ? " 

" There has been something of a fight, my lord," answered 
our acquaintance the Smith, " between the townsmen and the 
Southland loons who ride with the Douglas ; and we have 
swinged them as far as the Abbey-Gate." 

" I am glad of it — I am glad of it. And you beat the 
knaves fairly ? " 

" Pairly, does your Plighness ask ? " said Ilenry. " Why, 



208 THE WAYEELEY GALLERY. 

ay ! We were stronger iu uiunbers, to be siue ; but no men 
ride better armed tlian those wlio follow the Bloody Heart. 
And so in a sense we beat tliem faiiiy ; for as your Highness 
knows, it is the Smith who makes the man-at-arms, and men 
with good weapons are a match for gTeat odds." 

'' I had something to say to thee, Smith — Canst thou take 
up a fallen link in my Milan hauberk ? " 

'' As well, please your Highness, as my mother could take 
up a stitch in the nets she wove^The Milaner shall not know 
my work from his own." 

" Well, but that was not what I wished of thee just now," 
said the Piince, recollecting himself ; " this poor glee-woman, 
good Smith, she must be placed in safety. Thou art man 
enough to be any woman's champion, and thou must conduct 
her to some place of safety." 

Hemy Smith was, as we have seen, sufficiently rash and 
daring when weapons were in question. But he had also the 
pride of a decent bm-gher, and was unwilling to place himself 
in what might be thought equivocal circumstances by the sobei 
part of his fehow- citizens. 

" May it please yom- Highness," he said, " I am but a poor 
craftsman. But though my arm and sword are at the King's 
seiTice, and yom- Highness's, I am, with reverence, no scjuii'e of 
dames. Your Highness will find, among your own retinue, 
knights and lords willing enough to play Sir Pandarus of Troy 
— ^it is too knightly a part for poor Hal of the Wynd." 

" Umph — hah ! " said the Piince. " My purse, Edgar," — • 
(his attendant whispered him) — " Tme, true, I gave it to the 
poor wench. I know enough of yom- craft, Sir Smith, and of 
craftsmen in general, to be aware that men lure not hawks ^vith 
empty hands ; but I suppose my word may pass for the price 



THE GLEE-MAIDEK 209 

of a good armor, and I will pay it thee with thanks to boot for 
this slight service." 

"Your Highness may know other craftsmen/' said the 
Smith ; '' but, with reverence, you know not Henry Gow. He 
will obey you in making a weapon, or in wielding one, but he 
knows nothing of this petticoat service." 

" Hark thee, thou Perthshire mule," said the Prince, yet 
smiling, while he spoke, at the sturdy punctilio of the honest 
burgher — " the wench is as little to me as she is to thee. But 
in an idle moment, as you may learn from those about thee, if 
thou sawest it not thyself, I did her a passing grace, which 
is likely to cost the poor wretch her life. There is no one here 
whom I can trust to protect her against the discipline of belt 
and bowstring, with which the Border brutes who follow Douglas 
will beat her to death, since such is his pleasure." 

" If such be the case, my liege, she has a right to every 
honest man's protection ; and since she wears a petticoat — ■ 
though I would it were longer, and of a less fanciful fashion — I 
will answer for her protection as well as a single man may." 

Then, as if afraid of farther objection on the Smith's part, 
the Prince hastened into the palace. 

Henry Gow remained stupefied at what had passed, and at 
finding himself involved in a charge at once inferring much 
danger, and -an equal risk of scandal, both which, joined to a 
principal share Avhich he had taken, with his usual forwardness, 
in the fray, might, he saw, do him no small injury in the suit 
he pursued most anxiously. At the same time, to leave a de- 
fenceless creature to the ill-usage of the barbarous Galwegians, 
and licentious followers of the Douglas, was a thought which his 
manly heart could not brook for an instant. 

The Smith put himself in motion, with a sigh much resem- 

21 



210 -^^ ^AYZEIXY GALLEEY. 

bling a groan, and took his waj il: : :^_ a postern door, which, 
after looking once behind him, he left ajar. Behind him fol- 
lowed Lonise, who had hastily assmned her small bundle, and, 
calling her little fonr-legged companion, had eagerly followed in 
the path which opened an escape from what had shorty before 
seemed a great and inevitable danger. 




[•'..I'-Miid'cfT'eith. 



WAVESJJtT GALLSBT 



CATHERINE THE FAIR MAID OF PERTH. 

The glee-woman had been abroad upon tbe sixth day, a 
little before noon ; and the desire of fresh air, or the hope to 
find some salad or potherbs, or at least an early flower or two, 
with which to deck their board, had carried her into the small 
garden appertaining to the castle. She re-entered her apartment 
in the tower with a countenance pale as ashes, and a frame which 
trembled like an aspen leaf. Her terror instantly extended it- 
self to Catherine, who could hardly find words to ask what new 
misfortune had occurred. 

" Is the Duke of Rothsay dead ? " 

" Worse ! they are starving him alive." 

" Madness, woman ! " 

" No, no, no, no ! " said Louise, speaking under her breath, 
and huddling her words so thick upon each other, that Cather- 
ine could hardly catch the sense. " I was seeking for flowers 
to dress your pottage, because you said you loved them yester- 
day — my poor little dog, thrusting himself into a thicket of yew 
and holly bushes that grow out of some old ruins close to the 
castle waU, came back whining and howling. I crept forward 
to see what might be the cause — and, oh ! I heard a groaning 



212 TRE WATEKLEY GALLEEY. 

as of one in extreme pain, bnt so faint, that it seemed to arise 
out of tlie veiy deptli of the eaitli. At length, I found it pro- 
ceeded from a small rent in the wall, covered with i^w : and 
when I laid my eai' close to the opening. I could hear the 
Prince's voice distinctly say, ' It cannot now last long ; ' and 
then it sunk away in something like a prayer/"' 

" Gracious Heaven ! did you speak to him r " 

" I said, ' Is it you, my lord? ' and the answer was, ' Who 
mocks me with that title ? ' I asked him if I could help him, 
and he answered ^vith a voice I shaU never forget, ' Food I food ! 
I die of famine ! ' Sol came hither to teU you. TThat is to 
be done ? " 

'•' I know not yet," said Catherine, prompt and bold on oc- 
casions of moment, though yielding to her companion in inge- 
nuitv of resoui'ce on ordinarv occasions. '•' I know not vet — 
but something we wHl do — the blood of Bruce shah not die 
unaided/'" 

So savins:, she seized the smah cinise which contained their 
soup, and the meat of which it was made, wrapped some thin 
cakes which she had baked, into the fold of her plaid, and, beck- 
oning her companion to foUow with a vessel of milk, also part 
of their provisions, she hastened towards the garden. 

Louise indicated to her a heap of ruins, which, covered with 
underwood, was close to the castle waU. It had probably been 
origin aUy a projecrion from the building ; and the small fissm-e, 
wliich communicated with the dungeon, contrived for air, had 
teiTuinated within it. But the apertm*e had been a httle en- 
lai'sed bv decav, and admitted a dim rav of hsht to its recesses, 
although it could not be obsen'ed by those who visited the place 
with torchlight aids. 

"Here is dead silence/' said Catherine, after she had 



CATHEEINE THE FAIR MAID OF PERTH. 213 

listened attentively for a moment. " Heaven and earth, he is 
gone!" 

" We must risk something," said her companion, and ran 
her fingers over the strings of her guitar. 

A sigh was the only answer from the depth of the dungeon. 
Catherine then ventured to speak. " I am here, my lord — I am 
here, with food and drink." 

'' Ha ! Ramorny ? The jest comes too late — I am dying," 
was the answer. 

" His brain is turned, and no wonder," thought Catherine. 
" It is I, my lord, Catherine Glover. I have food, if I could 
pass it safely to you." 

*' Heaven bless thee, maiden ! I thought the pain was over, 
but it glows again within me at the name of food." 

" The food is here, but how, ah how can I pass it to you ? 
the chink is so narrow, the wall is so thick. Yet there is a 
remedy — I have it. Quick, Louise ; cut me a willow bough, 
the tallest you can find." 

The glee-maiden obeyed, and by means of a cleft in the top 
of the wand, Catherine transmitted several morsels of the soft 
cakes, soaked in broth, which served at once for food and for 
drink. 

The unfortunate young man ate little, and with difficulty, 
but prayed for a thousand blessings on the head of his comfort- 
er. " I had destined thee to be the slave of my vices," he said, 
" and yet thou triest to become the preserver of my life ! But 
away, and save thyself ! " 

" I will retm^n with food as I shall see opportunity," said 
Catherine, just as the glee*maiden plucked her sleeve, and de- 
sired her to be silent, and stand close. 



214, THE WAYEELEY GALLEEY. 

Both couched among the ruins, and they heard the voices of 
Ramomy and the medicuier ui close conversation. 

" He is stronger than I thought/' said the former, in a low, 
croaking tone. '"' Were it not better end the matter more speed- 
ily ? The Black Douglas comes this way. He is not in Alba- 
ny's secret. He will demand to see the Priace, and all ?/iusf be 
over ere he comes." 

They passed on ui their dai^k and fatal conversation. 

" Now gain we the tower," said Catherine to her companion, 
when she saw they had left the garden. " I had a plan of es- 
cape for myseK — I will turn it into one of rescue for the Prince. 
The dey- woman enters the Castle about vesper time, and usually 
leaves her cloak in the passage as she goes iato the pantler's 
office with the milk. Take thou the cloak, muffle thyself close, 
and pass the warder boldly ; he is usually diimken at that hour, 
and thou wilt go, as the dey-woman, unchallenged through gate 
and alono; bridore, if thou bear thvself with confidence. Then 
away to meet the Black Douglas ; he is om^ nearest and only 
aid. Tell him that his son-in-law, the Piince of Scotland, dies 
— treacherously famished — hi Falkland Castle, and thou wilt 
merit not pardon only, but reward." 

'' I care not for reward," said Louise ; '' the deed will re- 
ward itseK." 

They sobbed in each other's arms, and the intervening hours 
till evening were spent ui endeavoring to demise some better 
mode of supphing the captive with nourishment, and m the 
construction of a tube, composed of hollow reeds, shpping into 
each other, by which hquids might be conveyed to him. The 
bell of the village chm'ch of Falkland tolled to vespers. The 
dey, or farm-woman, entered with her pitchers, to dehver the 
milk for the fannlv, and to hear and tell the news stinins:. She 



CATHEEmE, THE FAIR MAID OF PERTH. 215 

had scarcely entered tlie kitclien, when the female minstrel, 
again throwing herself in Catherine's arms, and assuring her of 
her unalterable fidelity, crept in silence down stairs, the little 
dog under her arm. A moment after, she w^as seen by the 
breathless Catherine, wrapt in the dey-woman's cloak, and walk- 
ing composedly across the drawbridge. 

The hour of dinner alone afforded a space, when, all in the 
Castle being occupied with that meal, Catherine thought she 
had the best opportunity of venturing to the breach in the wall, 
with the least chance of being observed. In waiting for the 
hour, she observed some stir in the Castle, which had been silent 
as the grave ever since the seclusion of the Duke of Rothsay. 
The portcullis was lowered and raised, and the creaking of the 
machinery was intermingled with the tramp of horse, as men-at- 
arms went out and returned with steeds hard-ridden and cov- 
ered with foam. She observed, too, that such domestics as she 
casually saw from her window were in arms. All this made 
her heart throb high, for it augured the approach of rescue ; and 
besides, the bustle left the little garden more lonely than ever. 
At length, the hour of noon arrived ; she had taken care to pro- 
vide, under pretence of her own wishes, which the pantler seemed 
disposed to indulge, such articles of food as could be the most 
easily conveyed to the unhappy captive. She whispered to inti- 
mate her presence — there was no answer — she spoke louder ; 
still there was silence. 

"He sleeps" — she muttered these words half aloud, and 
with a shuddering which was succeeded by a start and a scream, 
when a voice rephed behind her, — 

" Yes, he sleeps ; but it is for ever." 

She looked round. Sir John Ramorny stood behind her in 
complete armor, but the visor of his helmet was up, and dis- 



216 . -^ -L ^^iLjlT CtAT.lkkY. 

played a countenaiice more lesemblmg one about to die than to 
fight. He spoke with a grave tone, something between that of 
a cahn observer of an interesting event, and of one who is an 
agent and partaker in it. 

" Catherine/' he said, '' ^ :5 r - -!ii:h I tell yon. He is 
dead — you have clc^ne vom b^-: i:: ^iz: — vou can do no more." 



ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN. 

Arthur Philips on had commenced liis precarious journey 
along the precipice, with all the coolness, resolution, and un- 
shaken determination of mind, which was most essential to a 
task where all must depend upon firmness of nerve. But the 
formidable accident which checked his onward progress was of a 
character so dreadful, as made him feel all the bitterness of a 
death, instant, horrible, and, as it seemed, inevitable. The solid 
rock had trembled and rent beneath his footsteps, and although, 
by an effort rather mechanical than voluntary, he had withdrawn 
himself from the instant ruin attending its descent, he felt as if 
the better part of him, his firmness of mind and strength of 
body, had been rent away with the descending rock, as it fell 
thundering, ivith clouds of dust and smoke, into the torrents 
and whirlpools of the vexed gulf beneath. In fact, the seaman 
swept from the deck of a Avrecked vessel, drenched in the waves, 
and battered against the rocks on the shore, does not differ more 
from the same mariner, when, at the commencement of the gale, 
he stood upon the deck of his favorite ship, proud of her strength 
and his own dexterity, than Arthur, when commencing his jour- 
ney, from the same Arthur, while clinging to the decayed trunk 

28 



013 T^^ ^AYZELEY GALLERY. 

of an old tree, from which, suspended between heaven and 
earth, he saw the fall of the crag which he had so nearly accom- 
panied. 

An incident, in itself trifling, added to the distress occa- 
sioned by this ahenation of his powers. AllHrag things in the 
neighborhood had, as might be supposed, been startled by the 
tremendous fall to which his progress had given occasion, 
rhghts of owls, bats, and other birds of darkness, compelled to 
betake themselves to the air, had lost no time in returning into 
their bowers of ivy, or the harbor afforded them by the lifts and 
holes of the neighboring rocks. One of this ill-omened flight 
chanced to be a lammer-geier, or Alpine \Tdtm'e, a bird larger 
and more voracious than the easle himself, and which Aii:hur 
had not been accustomed to see, or at least to look upon closely. 
With the instinct of most birds of prey, it is the custom of this 
creature, when gorged with food, to assume some station of in- 
accessible secmity, and there remain stationary and motionless 
for days together, till the work of digestion has been accom- 
phshed, and activity retmns with the pressm-e of appetite. Dis- 
turbed fr'om such a state of repose, one of these terrific bii'ds 
had risen from the ravine to which the species gives its name, 
and having circled unwiOingly round, with a ghastly scream and 
a flagging wing, it had sunk down upon the pinnacle of a crag, 
not fom' yards from the tree in which Arthur held his precarious 
station. Although still in some degree stupefied by torpor, it 
seemed encouraged bv the motionless state of the vouno; man to 
suppose him dead, or d^ing, and sat there and gazed at him, 
without displacing any of that apprehension which the fiercest 
animals usually entertain fr'om the -sicinity of man. 

Having devoutly recommended himself to om- Lady of Ein- 
siedlen, of whom the legends of the Cathohc Chm'ch form a 



ANi^[E OF GEIERSTEIK 219 

picture so amiable, Arthur, tliougli every nerve still shook with 
his agitation, and his heart throbbed with a violence that threat- 
ened to suffocate him, turned his thoughts and observations to 
the means of effecting his escape. But, as he looked around 
him, he became more and more sensible how much he was ener- 
vated by the bodily injuries and the mental agony which he had 
sustained during his late peril. He could not, by any effort of 
which he was capable, fix his giddy and be^vildered eyes on the 
scene around him ; they seemed to reel till the landscape danced 
along with them, and a motley chaos of thickets and tall cliffs, 
which interposed between him and the ruinous Castle of Geier- 
stein, mixed and whirled round in such confusion, that nothing 
save the consciousness that such an idea was the suggestion of 
partial insanity, prevented him from throwing himself from the 
tree, as if to join the wild dance to which his disturbed brain 
had given motion. 

" Heaven be my protection ! " said the unfortunate young 
man, closing his eyes, in hopes, by abstracting himself from the 
terrors of his situation, to compose his too active imagination, 
" my senses are abandoning me 1 " 

He became still more convinced that this was the case, when 
a female voice, in a high-pitched but eminently musical accent, 
was heard at no great distance, as if calling to him. He opened 
his eyes once more, raised his head, and looked towards the 
place from whence the sounds seemed to come, though far from 
being certain that they existed, saving in his own disordered 
imagination. The vision which appeared had almost confirmed 
him in the opinion that his mind was unsettled, and his senses 
in no state to serve him accurately. 

Upon the very summit of a pyramidical rock that rose out 
of the depth of the valley, was seen a female figure, so obscm-ed 



220 THE TTAATIELET GALEERT 

by mist, that only the outhne coiild be traced. The form, re- 
flected against the sky, appeared rather the undefined linea- 
ments of a spirit than of a mortal maiden, for her person seemed 
as light, and scarcely more opaque, than the thin cloud that 
surrounded her pedestal. Arthur's first beUef was, that the 
Yu'gin had heard his vows, and had descended in person to Ms 
rescue ; and he was about to recite his Ave Maria, when the 
voice aorain called to him, with the sinscular shiill modulation of 
the mountain halloo, by which the natives of the Alps can hold 
conference with each other from one mountain ridge to another, 
across ravines of great depth and width. 

TThile he debated how to address this unexpected appari- 
tion, it disappeared from the point which it at first occupied, 
and presently after became again visible, perched on the cliff 
out of which projected the tree in which Arthur had taken 
refage. Her personal appearance, as well as her dress, made it 
then apparent that she was a maiden of these mountains, famil- 
iar with their dangerous paths. He saw that a beautiful young 
woman stood before him, who regarded him with a mixtiu'e of 
pity and wonder. 

"Stranger," she at length said, "who are you, and whence 
come you ? "' 

" I am a stranger, maiden, as you justly teim me," answered 
the voimsr man, raisins^ himself as well as he could. " I left 
Lucerne this morning, with my father and a guide. I parted 
with them not three furlongs from hence. ^lay it please you, 
gentle maiden, to warn them of my safetv". for I know my father 
will be in despair upon my accoimt ? " 

" TTillingly,''' said the maiden ; •'• but I think my uncle, or 
some one of my Idnsmen, must have abeady found them, and 
will prove faithful guides. Can I not aid you ? — are you 



ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN. 221 

wounded — are you hurt ? We were alarmed by the fall of a 
rock — ay, and yonder it lies, a mass of no ordinary size." 

As tlie Swiss maiden spoke thus, she approached so close to 
the verge of the precipice, and looked v/ith such indifference 
into the gulf, that the sympathy which connects the actor and 
spectator upon such occasions brought back the sickness and 
vertigo from which Arthur had just recovered, and he sunk back 
into his former more recumbent posture, with something like a 
faint groan. 

The maiden looked on him anxiously, and with much inter- 
est, as, raising himself cautiously, and moving along the trunk 
of the tree, which lay nearly horizontal from the rock, and 
seemed to bend as he changed his posture, the youth at length 
stood upright, within what, on level ground, had been but an 
extended stride to the cliff on which the Swiss maiden stood. 
But instead of being a step to be taken on the level and firm 
earth, it was one which must cross a dark abyss, at the bottom 
of which a torrent surged and boiled with incredible fury. Ar- 
thur's knees knocked against each other, his feet became of lead, 
and seemed no longer at his command ; and he experienced, in 
a stronger degree than ever, that unnerving influence, which 
those who have been overwhelmed by it in a situation of like 
peril never can forget, and which others, happily strangers to its 
power, may have difficulty even in comprehending. 

The young woman discerned his emotion, and foresaw its 
probable consequences. As the only mode in her power to re- 
store his confidence, she sprung Hghtly from the rock to the 
stem of the tree, on which she alighted with the ease and secu- 
rity of a bird, and in the same instant back to the cliff ; and ex- 
tending her arm to the stranger, " My arm," she said, " is but a 
shght balustrade ; yet do but step forward with resolution, and 



222 THE WAYERLEY GALLERY. 

you will find it as seciu'e as tlie battlement of Berne." But 
shame now overcame terror so much, that Arthur, declining as- 
sistance which he could not have accepted without feeling low- 
ered in his own eyes, took heart of grace, and successfully 
achieved the formidable step which placed him upon the same 
cliff with his kind assistant. 

To seize her hand and raise it to his lips, in affectionate to- 
ken of gratitude and respect, was natm-ally the youth's first ac- 
tion ; nor was it possible for the maiden to have prevented him 
from doing so, without assuming a degree of prudery foreign to 
her character, and occasioning a ceremonious debate upon a 
matter of no great consequence, where the scene of action was a 
rock scarce five feet long by thi'ee in width, and which looked 
down upon a torrent roaring some hundred feet below. 




l/f^.BruniTncnJL 



■ia^^y 



f- 



■vria.i- Y r./ii.j.h:i(y 



CjfSTi.y. Z'.-::.GSiB,. 



LADY AUGUSTA BERKELY. 

Arrived, as it appeared to the lady, on more level ground, 
they proceeded on their singular road by a course which appeared 
neither direct nor easy, and through an atmosphere which was 
close to a smothering degree, and felt at the same time damp 
and disagreeable, as if from the vapors of a new-made grave. 
Her guide again spoke : 

" Bear up. Lady Augusta, for a little longer, and continue 
to endure that atmosphere which must be one day common to 
us all. By the necessity of my situation, I must resign my 
present office to your original guide, and can only give you my 
assm-ance, that neither he nor any one else, shall offer you the 
least incivility or insult — and on this you may rely, on the faith 
of a man of -honor." 

He placed her, as he said these words, upon the soft turf, 
and, to her infinite refreshment, made her sensible that she was 
once more in the open air, and free from the smothering atmos- 
phere which had before oppressed her like that of a charnel- 
house. At the same time, she breathed in a whisper an anxious 
wish that she might be permitted to disencumber herself from 
the folds of the mantle, which excluded almost the power of 



0-24 THE WAYEELET GALLERY. 

breathing, thougli intended only to prevent lier seeing by what 
road she travelled. She immediately found it unfolded, agreea- 
bly to her request, and hastened, with uncovered eyes, to take 
note of the scene around her. 

It was overshadowed by thick oak trees, among which stood 
some remnants of buildings, or what might have seemed such, 
being perhaps the same in which she had been lately wandering. 
A clear fountain of hving water bubbled forth from under the 
twisted roots of one of those trees, and offered the lady the op- 
portunity of a draught of the pure element, and in which she 
also bathed her face, which had received more than one scratch 
in the course of her journey, in spite of the care, and almost the 
tenderness, with which she had latterly been borne along. The 
cool water speedily stopped the bleeding of those trifling inju- 
ries, and the apphcation served at the same time to recall the 
scattered senses of the damsel herself. Her first idea was, 
whether an attempt to escape, if such should appear possible, 
was not advisable. A moment's reflection, however, satisfied 
her that such a scheme was not to be thought of ; and such 
second thoughts were confirmed by the approach of the gigantic 
form of the huntsman Tm-nbuU, the rough tones of whose voice 
were heard before his figure was obvious to her eye. 

" TTere you impatient for my return, fair lady ? Such as 
I,'' he continued, in an ii'onical tone of voice, " who are foremost 
in the chase of wild stags and sylvan cattle, ai'e not in use to lag 
behind, when fair ladies, like you, are the objects of pursuit ; 
and if I am not so constant in my attendance as you might ex- 
pect, beheve me, it is because I was engaged in another matter, 
to which I must saciifice for a httle even the duty of attending 
on you." 

"I offer no resistance," said the lady; "forbear, however, in 



LADY AUGUSTA BERKELY. 



225 



discharging tliy duty, to augment my uneasiness by thy conver- 
sation, for thy master hath pledged me his word that he will not 
suffer me to be alarmed or ill treated." 

" Nay, fair one," replied the huntsman, " I ever thought it 
was fit to make interest by soft words with fair ladies ; but if 
you like it not, I have no such pleasure in hunting for fine holy- 
day terms, but that I can with equal ease hold myself silent. 
Come, then, since we must wait upon this lover of yours ere 
morning closes, and learn his last resolution touching a matter 
which is become so strangely complicated, I will hold no more 
intercourse with you as a female, but talk to you as a person of 
sense, although an Englishwoman." 

" You will," repKed the lady, " best fulfil the intentions of 
those by whose orders you act, by holding no society with me 
whatever, otherwise than is necessary in the character of guide." 

The man lowered his brows, yet seemed to assent to what 
the Lady of Berkely proposed, and remained silent as they for 
some time pursued their course, each pondering over their own 
share of meditation, which probably turned upon matters essen- 
tially different. At length the loud blast of a bugle was heard 
at no great distance from the unsocial fellow-travellers. " That 
is the person we seek," said Turnbull ; " I know his blast from 
any other who frequents this forest, and my orders are to bring 
you to speech of him." 

The blood darted rapidly through the lady's vehis at the 
thought of being thus unceremoniously presented to the knight, 
in whose favor she had confessed a rash preference more agree- 
able to the manners of those times, when exaggerated sentiments 
often inspired actions of extravagant generosity, than in our 
days, when every thing is accounted absurd which does not turn 
upon a motive connected with the immediate selfish interests of 
29 



226 TEE TVATZELEY GALLEEY. 

the actor himself. When Tumbull, therefore, winded his horn, 
as if in answer to the blast which they had heard, the lady was 
disposed to fly at the first impulse of shame and of fear. Tnrn- 
bnll perceiyed her intention, and caught hold of her with no 
yery gentle grasp, saying, '*' Xay, lady, it is to be understood 
that you play your own part in the drama, which, unless you 
continue on the stage, will conclude unsatisfactorily to us aU, in 
a combat at outrance between yonr loyer and me, when it will 
appear which of us is most worthy of your fayor." 

" I will be patient," said the lady, bethinking her that even 
this strange man's presence, and the compulsion which he ap- 
peared to use towards her, was a SOTt of excuse to her female 
scruples for coming into the presence of her loyer — at least of 
her first appearance before him in a disguise which her feefings 
confessed was not extremely decorous, or reconcilable to the 
dignity of her se^. 




•^.^^6 



Vu^n^:7^xl- 



n^.i 



WAVERLrr GAJ.r.KBY 



SZTRGZOirS BAUGmEIL 



NewYoik D. Appleton & Cc 



ZILIA DE MONCADA. 

When they entered the room, the unhappy young woman 
was on her knees, beside an easy chair, her face in a silk wrapper 
that was hung over it. The man called Mongada uttered a 
single word ; by the accent it might have been something equiv- 
alent to wretch ; but none knew its import. The female gave 
a convulsive shudder, such as that by which a half-dying soldier 
is affected on receiving a second wound. But without minding 
her emotion, Mon^ada seizing her by the arm, and with little 
gentleness raised her to her feet, on which she seemed to stand 
only because she was supported by his strong grasp. He then 
pulled from her face the mask which she had hitherto worn. 
The poor creature still endeavored to shroud her face, by cover- 
ing it with her left hand, as the manner in which she was held 
prevented her from using the aid of the right. With little 
effort her father secured that hand also, which, indeed, was of 
itself far too little to serve the purpose of concealment, and 
showed her beautiful face burning with blushes and covered with 
tears. 



228 THE WATEELEY GATTEET. 

*•' You, Alcalde, and you. Surgeon/'' lie said to Lawford and 
Gray, with a foreign action and accent, "this woman is my 
daughter, the same ZiHa Alongada who is signaled in that prot- 
ocol. Make way, and let me cam- her where her crimes may 
be atoned for." 

'•' Are you that person's daughter ? " said Lawford to the 
lady. 

''She understands no English,'' said Gray; and addressing 
his patient in French, conjured her to let him know whether she 
was that man's daughter or not, assuring her of protection if the 
fact were otherwise. The answer was murmured faintlv, but 
was too distinctly intelhgible — ' He was her father." 

All farther title of interference seemed now ended. The 
messenger arrested his prisoner, and, with some dehcacy, required 
the assistance of the females to get her conveyed to the carriage 
in waitins:. 

Gray again interfered. — '• You will not," he said, •'•' sepai-ate 
the mother and the infant r " 

Zilia de Mongada heard the question, (which, being addressed 
to the father. Gray had inconsiderately uttered in French.) and 
it seemed as if it recalled to her recollection the existence of the 
helpless creature to which she had given birth, forgotten for a 
moment amongst the accumulated horrors of her father s presence. 
She uttered a shriek, expressing poignant grief, and turned her 
eyes on her father with the most intense supphcation. 

" To the parish with the bastard 1 " — said Mongada : while 
the helpless mother sunk lifeless into the arms of the females, 
who had now firathered round her. 

**' That will not pass, sii-," said Gideon. — " If you are father 
to that lady, you must be grandfather to the helpless child ; and 



ZILIA DE MONgADA. 229 

you must settle in some maimer for its future provision, or refer 
us to some responsible person." 

MonQada looked towards Lawford, who expressed himself 
satisfied of the propriety of what Gray said. 

" I object not to pay for whatever the wretched child may 
require," said he ; '' and if you, sir," addressing Gray, " choose 
to take charge of him, and breed him up, you shall have what 
will better your living." 

The Doctor was about to refuse a charge so uncivilly offered ; 
but after a moment's reflection, he replied, " I think so indiffer- 
ently of the proceedings I have witnessed, and of those con- 
cerned in them, that if the mother desires that I should retain 
the charge of this child, I will not refuse to do so." 

Mongada spoke to his daughter, who was just beginning to 
recover from her swoon, in the same language in which he had 
first addressed her. The proposition which he made seemed 
highly acceptable, as she started from the arms of the females, 
and, advancing to Gray, seized his hand, kissed it, bathed it in 
her tears, and seemed reconciled, even in parting with her child, 
by the consideration, that the infant was to remain under his 
guardianship. 

" Good, kind man," she said in her indifferent French, " you 
have saved both mother and child." 

The father, meanwhile, with mercantile deliberation, placed 
in Mr. Lawford's hands notes and bills to the amount of a 
thousand pounds, which he stated was to be vested for the child's 
use, and advanced in such portions as his board and education 
might require. In the event of any correspondence on his ac- 
count being necessary, as in case of death or the like, ho 
directed that communication should be made to Signor j\Iat- 



230 THE WAVEPvLEY GA.LLEEY. 

thias MonQada, under cover to a certain banking-house in 
London. 

" But beware/' he said to Gray, " how you trouble me 
about these concerns, unless in case of absolute necessity." 

" You need not fear, sir," rephed Gray ; " I have seen noth- 
ing to-day which can induce me to desire a more intimate cor- 
respondence with you than may be indispensable." 

The father then spoke to his daughter a few stern words, 
which she heard with an air of mingled agony and submission. 

" I have given her a few minutes to see and weep over the 
miserable being which has been the seal of her dishonor," said 
the stern father. "Let us retire and leave her alone. — ^You," 
to the messenger," watch the door of the room on the outside." 

Gray, Lawford, and Mongada, retired to the parlor accord 
ingly, where they waited in silence, each busied with his own 
reflections, till, within the space of half an hour, they received 
information that the lady was ready to depart. 

'' It is well," rephed Mongada ; "I am glad she has yet 
sense enough left to submit to that which needs must be." 

So saying, he ascended the stair, and returned, leading down 
his daughter, now again masked and veiled. As she passed 
Gray, she uttered the words — '' My child, my child ! " in a tone 
of unutterable anguish ; then entered the caniage, which was 
drawn up as close to the door of the Doctor's house as the little 
enclosure would permit, and the carriage drove rapidly off 
taking the road which leads to Edinburgh. 



THE END. 



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